Vash & Wolf
by Agent Firefly
Summary: Nineteen-year-old Wolf, returning to Augusta University for his second year of studies, has never been great at making friends. So how is it that he's already on a first-name basis with those two R.A. girls, not to mention an unexpected roommate? (AU, Vash x Wolfwood, Meryl x Millie)
1. Welcome to Augusta University

The first thing Wolf noticed about the boy was the freckle. Just beneath the corner of his left eye, one solitary mark on an otherwise bright and unblemished face. The spot was so distinctive, yet Wolf felt as if he had seen it somewhere before, though he could not think of anyone else he'd met with a face like that. Two sky blue eyes under a shock of blonde hair that lanced out in almost every direction, with a single earring to match the single freckle. His cheeks had nearly turned the same color as his red jacket in the frosty morning air, and his breath made shivery clouds around him as he glanced up from the map in his hands to study the campus with a look of pure confusion.

"New here?" Wolf was surprised to hear his own voice blurt out the question. He wasn't typically inclined to initiate conversations.

Two blue eyes fixed on his, and Wolf felt a punch of embarrassment. _Pretty_ was the only word to describe that gaze, but Wolf wanted to kick himself at the mere thought. To make matters worse, the boy's face broke into a smile capable of demolishing a small village, and a sunny voice rang out, "Yeah! How'd you know?"

Wolf raised an eyebrow as nonchalantly as he could. "Lucky guess."

"I'm looking for the registration place, but I can't find it on this map." He flipped the paper to show Wolf. "Can you take me there? Sorry to bother you."

"No, that's fine." Wolf cleared his throat and looked down at the map. "Um, you've got it upside-down. And what are all these scribbles about? Looks like someone gave you a weird map."

"Oh, those are mine. I was trying to mark all the places I've been, so I wouldn't get lost. But I think I got lost anyway." A nebulous shrug. "I'm pretty bad with directions."

_No kidding, _Wolf thought as he eyed the page. "The administration building is right behind us."

The boy laughed one of the most annoying laughs Wolf had ever heard. It startled him so badly that the paper shook out of his hands and fluttered to the sidewalk. As he reached down to retrieve it, the boy slapped his back so hard that he dropped it again.

"You're awesome. Thanks. What's your name?"

His nerves barely had time to settle. "Nicholas Wolfwood," he replied, handing the map back.

The boy crumpled the paper and seized Wolf's hand instead. "Nice to meet you, Wolf! My name's Vash."

A gust of wind stirred up the leaves on the sidewalk and circled Wolf as the boy named Vash hurried toward the administration building with a final shout, "Thanks again!" and it wasn't until the door slammed shut that Wolf realized the boy had guessed his nickname without even being told. He stared at the door for a long time before the chill of the wind shook him alert and he turned toward the dormitories with his hands in his pockets and tried not to think about which one Vash had held. _What am I, twelve?_

The truth was that he hadn't felt like smiling for months, but for a moment just now it didn't seem so hard.

* * *

Chapel Hall was swarming with second-year students, their cars parked around the perimeter and their families helping tote luggage through the large double doors. Wolf set his own few bags down on the curb and unpacked a cigarette as he watched the families walk back and forth. A few of the students he recognized from last year's classes, none of them more than acquaintances. Between his job on the weekdays and volunteer work on the weekends, Wolf hadn't had much time to make new friends. Not that he had ever been particularly good at it.

By the time he finished his cigarette, a couple of the cars had pulled away, parents hugging their kids goodbye, and the double doors weren't swinging so frequently. Wolf took one last look at the towering stone walls and stained glass windows before he headed for the doors himself. He'd heard that some of the structures on Augusta's campus had been converted from an old monastery. It was obvious which building Chapel Hall had been. The fact that Wolf was going to be living here for the next two semesters made him more anxious than he cared to admit.

_He isn't here,_ Wolf reminded himself. _It's just a name. It's just a building. _But even as the sun climbed higher in the sky, the old church cast a shadow that chilled him to the bone.

Behind the tall wooden doors, a warmer scene greeted him. Under the vaulted ceiling of what had once been the atrium, groups of people stood around talking, catching up on each other's stories, locating old friends, swapping schedules. The noise of their voices was one big, watery echo in the enormous chamber. Wolf made his way to the desk at the back of the room and waved to the R.A. shuffling papers behind it.

"Just a minute!" The girl pushed a strand of shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear as she rummaged through a drawer. After a moment she tilted her head and smiled at Wolf. "I'm sorry, I literally put my pen down for one second and it's gone. Do you have a pen I could borrow?"

Wolf automatically searched his pockets, then stopped and reached over the desk. "Right under your nose," he said with a slight smile as he held the pen out to her.

"No way! I swear it wasn't there a second ago." The girl giggled, and Wolf thought the situation bore a strange resemblance to the one that had occurred earlier that morning. At least the girl's laughter wasn't obnoxious.

"I just need my room key," Wolf prompted. He gave her his name and showed her his ID, and she unlocked a cabinet on the wall.

"Let's see, Mr. Wolfwood. You're on the second floor, up the stairs and to the left. Room 206." She handed him the key. "That's a really nice room! You're lucky."

He felt like she might be exaggerating, but he managed another polite smile.

"If you need anything, Meryl and I will be here all year long. There are rules and phone numbers and stuff in the room. And…what am I forgetting? Oh, I never told you my name! I'm Millie. Millie Thompson."

"Thanks." Wolf nodded as he shouldered his luggage. "See you later, Millie."

An archway led out of the atrium into the dorms, and a creaky wooden staircase took Wolf up to a narrow hallway lined with numbered doors. He found Room 206 and turned the key in the lock.

There was more light than he expected. A tall window looked down on the lawn below, soft sunlight dampened by clouds filtering in from above. Blue curtains and painted blue walls lent a calm glow to the stained wooden furniture. Wolf set his bag of clothes beside the dresser and laid his school satchel on the desk. He hefted the last small suitcase onto the bed and sat down to open it.

The cross had been the last thing that he packed. He'd almost left it at the hostel, but something made him turn back and put it in the suitcase. Wolf couldn't think of a single reasonable explanation for keeping the thing. He hadn't attended Mass since he left his hometown two years ago, and although he was working toward a religious studies degree, he didn't practice any faith on a regular basis. Still, he'd hung the simple white cross over his bed in the hostel, and in the last dormitory, just as it had hung over his bed at home for as long as he could remember. It had never once saved him from his father's fist, never once answered his prayers for his mother to return, so why this inexplicable comfort? Why had the walls felt bare without it?

He left the suitcase open on the bed and headed for the door. He would go down to the refectory, find something to eat. Have another cigarette maybe. Save the unpacking for later. It could wait. There was another whole year ahead of him.

* * *

The sky was dark when Wolf came back. One cigarette had turned to three or four, and his walk around the campus had turned to a walk downtown and back, then an hour or two in the library, a cup of coffee, a book that kept him distracted until he looked out the window to see the sunset crawling in and decided it was time to leave. He burrowed his hands in his pockets as the red sky deepened to purple, and he returned to Chapel Hall to find the atrium quiet and empty except for Millie at the desk with another girl beside her. They were speaking in low voices, their hands entwined. When they noticed Wolf, they released each other quickly.

"Hi, Mr. Wolfwood!" Millie chirped, her face pink. The other girl, who had short dark hair and was about half the height of her friend, averted her eyes and made a show of straightening the papers on the desk.

Wolf, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward, gave her a noncommittal wave and hurried out of the room. He had to admit he was surprised, though he found nothing wrong with their innocent display of affection. But he couldn't think of a way to tell them not to worry about it without making himself sound intrusive, so he gave up and hoped Millie didn't think he was just being rude.

He climbed the stairs with tired legs and resolved to take a shower before attempting to unpack. The room was outfitted with some essential things, bed linens and usually towels, but when Wolf searched the closet and the dresser, he couldn't find any. _Great._ He heaved a sigh. There was nothing to do but go back downstairs and disrupt the two girls again. Wolf walked back to the atrium as slowly as he could. He coughed loudly as he approached the desk.

Millie and the short girl were preoccupied with eating dinner, Wolf was relieved to notice. Apparently off-duty, Milly had taken a seat near the TV and was spooning pudding out of a plastic cup, while her friend managed the desk. The dark-haired girl had a mug of tea and a plate of sweets in front of her, and she looked much less flustered.

"Can I help you?" she asked Wolf.

"Yeah, I just need a towel. There weren't any in the room."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "That's weird. We stocked all the rooms yesterday. Right, Millie?"

The tall girl looked up from her pudding and smiled when she saw Wolf. "Oh, it's you again! Meryl, this is Nicholas Wolfwood. I met him this morning."

"Meryl Strife." She shook his hand briefly, looking a bit annoyed that Millie hadn't answered her question.

"Um, you can call me Wolf if you want. I don't really use my full name anymore."

"Okay, then…Wolf. I'll bring you a new towel in a minute."

"Take your time." He thanked them both, feeling somehow more embarrassed than before, and left again.

He stopped when he reached the door to his room. It wasn't shut all the way. He was fairly certain he had closed it, but he hadn't bothered locking up. He nudged the door open slowly, peering inside with caution.

"What the—!" Wolf choked on his own words, the blood rushing from his face. There was somebody else in the room. Somebody dripping wet and wearing nothing but a…

_Oh. I guess that's where my towel went._

"Sorry," Wolf stammered, much too loudly. "Wrong room."

He spun around and slammed the door shut, sweat beading on his forehead. But when he turned to look at the number on the door, there was no mistaking it: Room 206. Not a sound came from the person inside. Wolf sat down on the stairs and tried to catch his breath. Was that who he thought it was?

Meryl appeared at the foot of the stairs with a folded towel in her arms. "Something wrong?"

"Yes, actually." Wolf hoped the shadowy stairwell was dark enough to conceal his unsettled expression. "I think Millie may have given me the wrong room key. There's someone else in there."

The girl's monotone voice hardly registered shock. "Oh, dear. Well, it wouldn't be the first time that's happened. Follow me, we'll double check the file."

Wolf shuffled after her, watched as she opened the same cabinet Millie had opened that morning, and unearthed his ID again.

"No, that's right. You're in 206 with Vash."

His stomach flopped. _So it was him._ "But I'm supposed to be in a single."

Meryl took out a file folder, her eyebrows scrunching up again. She put on a pair of reading glasses and skimmed over the pages. "It looks like we had a last minute change of room assignment. There was a transfer student whose name got overlooked, but all the rooms were full. Since 206 is the largest single, we converted it to a double and assigned him as your roommate." Her brown eyes flicked up to his. "But someone should have told you about that. Didn't you receive a letter?"

Wolf shook his head, dumbfounded.

"Strange. I'm going to have a word with Millie when she gets back from her break. In the meantime, please accept our apologies and settle in as best as you can."

She returned the file to the cabinet and began to lock it up. Then something occurred to Wolf. "Wait a minute. There has to be some kind of mistake. That room only has one bed."

Meryl stared at him, both of them confused now. Then a door opened and Millie reappeared.

"Millie!" Meryl's tone was furious. "This had better not be your fault."

Her green eyes widening in fear, Millie swiveled around to leave, but Meryl grabbed her sleeve and hauled her over to the desk. She opened the file and displayed it for Millie to see. "Were you aware that Room 206 was supposed to be converted to a double?"

Millie scanned the file and looked up happily at Wolf. "Yes! Did you meet Mr. Vash yet? He's really sweet, isn't he? I'm sure you two will be good friends."

Wolf didn't know how to react. Fortunately, Meryl did.

"Ow! Meryl, don't!" Millie swatted at the hand pinching her cheek until Meryl let go. "Why'd you do that?" the tall girl demanded with tears in her eyes.

"This young man was not informed about the fact that he had a new roommate. Furthermore, nobody bothered to move a second set of furniture into the room. Now, tell me this fiasco doesn't have Stun Gun Millie written all over it."

"I'm sorry! I had no idea!"

"You've got to quit spacing out all the time! Your job's already on the line. Don't you want to make it to graduation? At this rate, we'll never get a place of our own! Our careers will bottom out and we'll never start that business together and you'll be stuck in your mom's house forever with your eight billion cousins! Is that the life you want, Millie?"

"Hey!" Wolf raised both hands, startled by the outburst. "Hey, it's okay. It's really not that big of a deal. I won't tell anyone, so don't worry about…uh, your future being shattered, or anything."

Her temper receding, Meryl bowed low and said, "I'm so sorry about this. Please forgive her stupidity."

"I'm sorry, too, Mr. Wolfwood!" Millie cried. "You must really hate my guts. I wouldn't blame you. I'm such a forgetful loser. She doesn't call me Stun Gun Millie for nothing."

The tears were threatening to burst out of her eyes, so Wolf interrupted her. "I'm not mad at you. I promise. You've been very nice. Please don't worry about the furniture or anything tonight, I'll be fine. Just…is there a futon or something I could borrow?"

* * *

When Wolf returned to Room 206, his arms loaded down with blankets and pillows and extra towels that the R.A. girls had bestowed on him, he hesitated before opening the door. Shifting the pile to one arm, he knocked a few times and waited.

"Come in," a small voice said.

Wolf stepped inside and dropped the pile on the floor, trying not to look up. He could see a pair of socked feet out of the corner of his eye.

"Sorry I startled you," Vash said. "I thought you knew I was here."

"They never told me I had a roommate," Wolf said as he unfolded one of the fluffy comforters and spread it out on the floor.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. I didn't realize, that's all." _God. Can everyone stop apologizing to me tonight?_

He finally lifted his head to look at the other boy. Vash was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing pajamas and wrapped in his red hoodie. Looking at the long sleeves, Wolf remembered the bare skin and realized that he'd seen something that disturbed him a little. Vash's left arm had been traced all over with scars. At least, that's what he thought he saw. It had happened pretty fast.

Wolf didn't want to ask about it. From his downcast face, Vash looked even more embarrassed than he felt.

"Are you cold?" Wolf asked, breaking the silence. "We've got a space heater over here. I'll turn it on."

"Thanks." His voice lightened a bit.

As Wolf turned the dial on the heater, he noticed that his suitcase had been moved and the cross inside it was gone. He looked up to see it hanging in its place on the wall over the bed, as if he'd put it there himself. Had he?

"I hung it up," Vash said, noticing Wolf's bewilderment. He chanced a smile. "I wouldn't have guessed you were religious."

Wolf shrugged. "I'm not." Then he laughed. It wasn't forced. He couldn't stop. It was all just too ridiculous. Vash joined in, though he didn't seem sure what they were laughing about. When Wolf finally calmed down, he had to mop at his eyes with his sleeve.

"Nice to meet you again, unexpected roommate." Wolf shook Vash's hand the way Vash had shaken his earlier that day. "Millie thinks we'll be great friends."

Vash's true smile surfaced. It was the kind of smile that wasn't aware of itself. Pure and honest. Unafraid.

The unpacking process didn't feel so foreboding now. Neither of them had many clothes to worry about, so there was room for everything in the dresser. Wolf retrieved his toothbrush and soap and threw a towel over his shoulder. On his way out, he told Vash, "I'm going to sleep on the floor, so make yourself comfortable."

"But you were here first," Vash protested.

Wolf closed the door before he could argue further. It wasn't very late, but he felt exhausted. Vash must have been tired, too, because when Wolf came back from the bathroom down the hall, the lights were out in their room. He felt around with his toes for the comforter on the floor, and his foot bumped into something. Wolf fished in his pocket for his phone and pressed a button to light up the screen. In the faint blue beam of light, he could see Vash asleep on top of the comforter. Wolf sighed. He prodded the boy's shoulder with his foot again.

"I told you I was going to take the floor," he said. Vash didn't respond. His breathing was deep. Only a sliver of his face showed between his shoulder and the crook of his arm, but Wolf could see the single freckle underneath his left eye, the earring he hadn't bothered to take out. He didn't realize he was staring until the phone screen flickered off and the darkness pricked at his eyes. He turned the light back on and pulled a blanket from the pile beside the door. "You're gonna freeze, stupid," he muttered, draping the covers over Vash. He turned the heater up a notch and climbed into the bed. Moments ago, he could barely keep his eyes open, but now he felt wide awake. He turned his head toward the figure on the floor, and although he couldn't see a thing, he could feel the other boy's presence as strongly as the heavy blanket on his chest. It wasn't a bad feeling. But damned if he was going to get any sleep tonight.

* * *

By midnight, Wolf had given up trying. It was too cold and he was too lazy to go outside, so he'd opened the window and leaned out smoking with his elbows on the windowsill. He heard Vash mumbling something in his sleep. Then he heard a choking gasp, and he whirled around to see Vash sitting up in a square of moonlight, shaking.

"You okay?"

Vash searched around sightlessly for a minute, then froze when he saw Wolf at the window. "Could you…not do that, please?"

Wolf raised his eyebrows. "Whatever, princess." He crushed the stub on the sill and flicked it out into the night. The lack of sleep had put his temper on edge. _Lighten up, jerk,_ he scolded himself. "So who's Rem? Your girlfriend?"

"Rem?" Vash repeated quietly. Were those tears in his eyes?

"You kept saying that name in your sleep," Wolf said, his voice softening. He already regretted saying anything.

Vash looked down at his hands gripping the blanket. "Whatever you think it is, it's not," he said slowly, each word an effort. He sat still for a long time, and Wolf could tell he was trying not to cry. He wasn't very good at hiding it. _God, this kid is delicate._

Wolf closed the window and sat on the floor beside him. He felt like he should say something, but he didn't know what. Vash pulled his knees up to his chin and buried his face in his arms. Wolf reached out a hand to place it on his shoulder, then stopped himself. Touching people was never a good idea.

He stood up, and Vash grabbed his hand. Wolf's entire body tensed. He didn't know what to do. Vash wasn't saying anything, but he wasn't letting go, either. One by one Wolf's muscles relaxed until he felt the warmth in his veins and his pulse slowed down. The more he focused on keeping his hand absolutely still, the more he felt Vash's grip tighten. _Stay,_ a voice told him. _He wants you here._ Was it a voice he could trust, though? Had it ever been?

Vash released Wolf's hand and wiped his face on his sleeve, forcing out an unconvincing laugh. "Sorry. I must look pretty pathetic, huh? Don't go telling the R.A. girls about me, okay?"

It hurt Wolf to look at his smile, so he turned away. "Not a word," he promised.

Vash didn't have any more dreams that night. Wolf knew because he listened. But he must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he woke up the sun was out and Vash was gone.


	2. Bang!

_The only time I ever held a gun was on my graduation day. I remember everything about that moment: the smell of alcohol from the broken bottle on the floor, my father's cowering shape in the corner, the wad of cash in my pocket, the cool metal against my sweaty palms. Plenty of times he'd threatened me with that gun, his face a mask of power and rage, but I felt neither angry nor powerful. All I felt was scared out of my goddamn mind._

* * *

Wolf hurried across the parking lot, straightening his tie and throwing on the lanyard that held his badge. He had woken up late and rushed to get to work, sacrificing his appearance out of the fear of getting another strike for tardiness. As he jogged up the steps to the door, he realized his shirt was inside-out. He had a vest on, but he doubted it would fool anyone. Taking off his bike helmet and wedging it under his arm, he swiped at his mop of black hair and hustled past the attendance office, flashing his badge at the woman behind the desk. He reached the classroom, panting and fighting the pain in his lungs, only to find that the teacher hadn't arrived yet.

Fifteen third-grade faces gaped up at him.

"Mr. Wolf has his shirt on wrong again!"

"Yeah, and his shoes are untied!"

"Mr. Wolf, I'm eight years old and I know how to tie my shoes."

"Where's Ms. Amelia?"

Wolf stifled a cough, his breath catching up to him. "You tell me, Isabel! I'm the one who's supposed to be late all the time."

A few kids giggled. Wolf set his satchel beside the teacher's desk and noticed a slip of paper with Amelia's handwriting on it. _Mr. W.— I will be two hours late for school on Monday due to a dental appointment. Please see my planner for assigned classwork. —Ms. A._

"Looks like you guys are gonna be stuck with me for a while," Wolf announced. "Teacher's out getting her teeth straightened."

"I'm gonna tell Ms. Amelia you said that."

Wolf frowned. "Don't you know what sarcasm is, Richard? And I happen to recall that _both_ your shoes were untied last Wednesday."

Everyone laughed, and the remains of Wolf's anxiety evaporated. If there was one sound he wished he could carry around with him, it would be that one for sure.

He clapped his hands to get their attention. "Okay, let's do some work. Page twenty-eight in your math books."

Groans all around. "What?" Wolf replied. "If we get the worst part over with first, we can goof around until your teacher gets here."

"I hate math!"

"You let us color last time."

"Yeah, why're you making us work?"

"I thought you were fun, Mr. Wolf."

Wolf slumped against the whiteboard. "You guys are gonna make me lose my job, you know."

"We won't tell!"

"Give us the answers again!"

"I want ice cream!"

The classroom erupted into screams and laughter. Wolf stared up at the ceiling, unable to keep the smile off his face. _Dammit, I'm such a pushover. Amelia is going to kill me._

* * *

He didn't have time to think about Vash until he got back to Chapel Hall that afternoon. Now that Wolf remembered how his roommate had disappeared that morning, he wondered if Vash was ever coming back. _He probably requested a room change, _Wolf thought. _I'm not the easiest person to get along with, anyway._ It sounded reasonable in his head, but it made him ache inside. He wandered around outside the building, reluctant to hear the news from Meryl or Millie. Then he saw a familiar shape around the corner.

"Hey, buddy." Wolf reached for the small black cat and stroked its fur. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Last year, he'd noticed the cat following him around between classes. He gave it scraps now and then, but it didn't seem particularly attached to him. He guessed that lots of other students fed the cat, too. Wolf called it Neko.

The cat purred and rubbed its face against his hand. He held the door open to see if it would follow him inside, but Neko trotted off down the sidewalk, other business to attend to. Wolf felt the emptiness creep in again.

Someone else was talking to the R.A. girl at the desk, so Wolf passed them without a word. When he got to the room, he almost didn't want to look inside, but he gritted his teeth and turned the key.

"Wolf! You're back."

All the pressure inside him collapsed. "So are you."

Vash had a laptop open on the desk, one earphone in. His genuine smile had returned. "Man, you must have a lot of classes. I haven't seen you all day."

Wolf loosened his tie and dropped his satchel beside the desk. "Actually, I just got back from work. Most of my classes are in the evening."

"You have a job?" Vash looked amazed.

"It's only a part-time thing. I'm a teacher's aide."

"Wow." Vash rocked back in the chair. "No wonder you look so tired all the time."

Wolf didn't respond. He wanted to ask where Vash had gone that morning, but he figured it was none of his business.

"Your shirt's inside-out," Vash remarked.

"So I've been told."

He waited until Vash had turned back to the computer before he started to change clothes. Wolf was used to living with other people, he'd spent most of his childhood cramped in boarding school dormitories, and stayed in a hostel over the last summer break. But something about this situation felt different.

"Doing anything before class?" Vash asked.

Wolf dug an old T-shirt and a pair of jeans out of the dresser. "Probably going to work on my bike."

"You drive a _motorcycle?_"

"Um, kind of. I mean, it's still a work in progress."

"Can I see it?" Vash leaped up so fast that the earphone ripped out of his ear.

Wolf put the shirt on quickly. "I don't know…"

"Come on, I don't even have a car! Not that I could drive one. I wreck everything I touch."

"Then you'd better not touch my bike."

"I won't! I promise!"

Vash hid his hands in his pockets to demonstrate. Wolf watched him curiously, then said, "Fine."

They walked downstairs to the atrium, Vash pestering Wolf with questions, until Millie waved them over to the desk. "Mr. Wolfwood! Mr. Vash!"

"Millie!" Vash already seemed to be on good terms with her. He gave her a high five and laughed that annoying laugh of his. "Where's Meryl? Wanna go see Wolf's bike?"

Wolf elbowed him, but Millie just shrugged and laughed. "I'm on duty until six. But we're both off tomorrow night, so we're going to a party. You guys should come!"

"Deal!" Vash agreed.

"Maybe," Wolf amended.

"I hope so! It's going to be really fun. Meryl's the best shot in town!"

As they walked toward the door, Wolf tried to decipher what her last statement could have possibly meant, but he reached no conclusion. Vash didn't appear to be concerned.

"Millie's awesome, isn't she? We have an art class together!"

"She's an art student, then?" Wolf asked.

"No, I think she's in the business school. Wants to do construction or something. We're both just taking the class for fun."

They had crossed the parking lot, but there was no sign of a motorcycle. "Where's your bike?" Vash asked.

"I don't like to leave it out in the open," Wolf said. "I found a good hiding place last year. It's sort of like my garage."

He led Vash over the lawn toward a cluster of smaller dormitories, then cut through a courtyard between the buildings. Behind one of the freshman dorms, partially hidden by a row of overgrown hedges, there was a supply shed that looked like it hadn't been used in years. The front door was padlocked, but Wolf pushed through the shrubs and revealed a small door hanging open. He paused before taking Vash inside.

"You can't tell anyone about this, okay? It took me a long time to save up for the parts. I don't want it to get stolen."

Vash raised his right hand solemnly. "My lips are sealed."

Wolf reached inside the door and flipped a switch on the wall. A single lightbulb flickered to life. Vash peered over Wolf's shoulder.

Silence. Then, with an edge of disbelief, "_That's_ your bike?"

"Yeah. What?"

"That's not a motorcycle."

"I told you, it's a work in progress."

"It's a bicycle."

"No, it's not."

"It's a bicycle with a lawn mower engine attached."

"Shut up, all right? You have no clue how long this took me to build."

"Does it even run?"

"Look, I didn't bring you out here so you could insult her."

"Are you sure it's a she? I've seen farm implements prettier than that thing."

Wolf grabbed his shoulders and pushed him into the hedge. Vash started to laugh. "Wait, did you give her a name? Are you taking her to Millie's party?"

He had to duck to avoid Wolf's swinging fists. "Okay, okay!" Vash yelled. "I'm sorry!"

"You're gonna be sorrier in about three seconds!" Wolf roared, but Vash was too quick for him. He snaked out of the hedge and sprinted toward the courtyard with Wolf on his heels. Before long, Vash was yards away and Wolf was bent over with his hands on his knees, coughing up a lung. He finally slumped down in the grass, staring up at the bright blue sky. He couldn't help laughing. No one had bothered him this much in years. And he had to admit, it was fun.

* * *

Wolf's first class of the semester was an Introduction to Religious Ethics course. He had gotten there early, along with a few other students, and he was half-listening to their scattered conversations when he heard someone mention Vash's name.

"You mean Vash the Stampede?" another person said. "My brother used to go to school with that guy. He said he got kicked out for, like, smashing through a window or something."

"I heard he got into a fight and put all these guys in the hospital."

"Yeah, they called him the human hurricane. Remember all those disasters in the news? They all happened at schools he went to."

"Didn't he transfer from U.J.?"

"There was that big fire there last year."

The discussion turned to the July incident, and Wolf's attention wandered. They had to be talking about someone else. The Vash he'd met yesterday was about as dangerous as a goldfish. But then he recalled the scars he'd seen on Vash's arm. The nightmare, the empty smile. Where did he come from? What had happened to him, to cause that kind of pain?

_"Whatever you think it is, it's not."_ Those were the words Vash had said. Whatever those other people had heard, they were probably wrong, too.

After the professor arrived, after the lecture was over, the questions still lurked in Wolf's mind. He wouldn't learn the answers anytime soon. Vash was gone when he returned to their room, and Wolf was too tired from the sleepless night before to wait for him to show. He sprawled on the floor with his arms behind his head and fell asleep with the light on.

* * *

He awoke to the sound of snoring. A pale shaft of sunlight seeped through the curtains and stung his eyes. His back was stiff and he had a knot in his neck. Groaning, he tilted his head to ease the soreness.

Vash was sleeping beside him.

Wolf blinked a few times. He glanced up at the empty bed, then back down to the snoring boy next to him.

"Hey." Wolf's voice felt raw. When he received no reply, he shook Vash's shoulder.

Nothing.

He noticed with increasing exasperation that Vash had stolen the blanket from him. The snoring grew louder.

Wolf grabbed the corner of the blanket and yanked it back, rolling Vash off of the comforter. He woke with a start.

"What the hell are you doing down here?" Wolf demanded.

Vash curled up like a dying spider. "Not so loud," he whimpered, covering his head with his arms.

_So that's it. _"Hungover already? It's not even the third day—" Wolf stopped. The sleeve of Vash's shirt had slipped back, uncovering a fresh set of scars on his left arm.

Wolf felt a cold wave of some emotion he could not name. Fear? Sadness? Anger? It all blended together. Should he say something? Or pretend he hadn't noticed?

In the end, he went with his second instinct. "Almost ten o'clock," he said, squinting at his phone. "Good thing it's my day off."

"Mine, too," Vash mumbled. As far as Wolf could tell, every day was Vash's day off.

He went about his morning routine more noisily than usual, until Vash sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Where are you going?"

Wolf finished tying his shoes and picked up his satchel. "The library. Gonna get a cup of coffee."

"They have coffee in the library?" Vash was astounded. "Wait a minute, I'll come with you."

He didn't have to wait very long. Vash had apparently slept in his clothes from the night before, and his pale messy hair was a permanent bedhead, anyway. Wolf noticed that he had pulled his sleeve back down, but there were small dark pinpricks where the blood had soaked through. On their way downstairs, he failed to think of a way to mention the stains.

Meryl was on duty at the R.A. desk. She gave them a succinct nod, businesslike as usual. _At least she's not a morning person,_ Wolf thought. _That's one thing we have in common._

Vash wasn't his conversational self that morning, either. Their walk to the library was peaceful, and it wasn't until they'd stood in line at the coffee shop for several minutes that Vash spoke up in surprise.

"Wolf! You never told me they have _doughnuts_ here!"

He had the look of a bear in a butcher shop. Wolf stared at him blankly. "I wasn't aware I was withholding vital information."

Vash didn't hear him. He was too busy bartering with the barista. "A bag of doughnuts, please!"

"How many?"

"Thirty dollars' worth!"

Wolf was too awestruck to speak to him until he'd had a few sips of coffee. He watched Vash across the table they shared, the shaggy-haired boy scarfing down doughnuts and singing their praises with way too much enthusiasm. Wolf tried to piece together the rumors he'd heard last night with the person sitting in front of him, and he felt more clueless than ever.

"So, uh…Vash. Meryl told me you were a transfer student."

"Yeah, University of July," Vash replied. Which, with a mouthful of doughnuts, sounded more like, "Yunivery ajure I."

_Well, that one checks out._ "What are you studying?"

A shrug, then he finally swallowed. "Nothing in particular. What about you?"

"Religion."

Vash offered Wolf a doughnut, but Wolf shook his head, so he shoved it into his mouth. "I thaw you wern relijurf."

"I'm not. I mean, I guess I'm still figuring that out. But I don't want to go into ministry work."

"War you wanna do?"

Wolf took another sip of coffee. "I don't know for sure. I know that I want to work with kids. You know, kids who've had it rough. I'm doing my practicum as a mentor at this church downtown, and that's going well. If I could end up doing something like that every day, I'd be happy."

Vash had finished eating, and Wolf suddenly felt embarrassed. Somehow the conversation had gotten turned around on him, and he'd bared more of his soul than he'd intended. But Vash seemed truly interested.

"That's really cool," he said quietly, sugar still clinging to his lips. "You have so much of your life planned out already. I can't imagine working that hard."

Wolf thought this was a bit of an overstatement. He was just doing what he could to get by. Ever since he left his hometown, he'd worked constantly to save money and put himself through college. He'd been lucky to get the job at Augusta Elementary. Not very many people had the opportunity to get paid for doing what they loved.

To be honest, he wanted to know how Vash managed to coast along with neither a job nor any career aspirations and still be able to afford his weight in doughnuts, but Wolf thought it might be rude to ask.

"How long were you at U.J.?" he asked instead.

"About a year, I guess. Before that I was in May City for a few semesters, and before that I went to Octovern State College. Or was it December?"

"Wait a minute. How long have you been in college?"

Vash counted on his fingers. "Four, five, six…I've lost count! Let's see, I'm twenty-four, so that means—"

"Twenty-four?" Wolf howled. "You're kidding, right?"

Vash smiled innocently, his fingers still splayed. "Why? How old are you?"

Wolf couldn't believe it. No way was this freeloading, doughnut-eating, party-going pretty boy _five years older than he was._

"I'm…" Wolf started, but couldn't finish.

"Twenty-one? Twenty-two? Don't tell me, I'm good at this."

"Nine…"

"Twenty-_nine?_ Wow, I thought you seemed mature, but I wouldn't have guessed—"

"_Nineteen._"

Even over the roar of the cappuccino machine, Wolf swore he heard an echo. His face felt twenty degrees too hot. When he dared to look up at Vash, it rose another ten.

"What are you smiling about?" Wolf growled.

"You…are…adorable!" Vash reached over to ruffle his hair, and Wolf wriggled away, grimacing. "You've got this whole stoic tough guy attitude, and you're battling life's greatest quandaries and all, but underneath you're just a little teenager!"

"Shut up! We're practically the same age!"

"And you blush when you get mad! That's so cute!"

"I'm gonna break your goddamn nose!"

"Excuse me," the barista interrupted. "Please take your bizarre conversation outside. People are trying to study in here."

* * *

Vash went out after they got back to the dorm, so Wolf spent most of the day in silence, getting a head start on his ethics homework. When he opened the window to smoke a cigarette, Neko the cat sprang up on the sill.

"How'd you get up here?" Wolf leaned out to view the two-story drop. The cat pushed its face against his chin, then hopped onto his lap and curled up for a nap. Wolf pet the cat absently while he smoked, and he was about to doze off, too, when there was a knock on the door. Neko leaped away and hid under the bed. Wolf put out his cigarette and got up to see who was there.

A guy with blue hair was standing at the door. His dark gray eyes cut into Wolf like steel. But when he spoke, his voice sounded bored, disinterested. "Is Vash here?"

Wolf shook his head. "Who are you?"

"I have a message for Vash, but I'd rather give it to him in person. Do you know when he will return?"

"I think you have the wrong room." Wolf wasn't sure why he lied. All he knew was that he didn't trust this person, and he didn't want Vash anywhere near him.

Those gray eyes didn't seem to trust Wolf, either. The last thing the guy said before Wolf closed the door was, "I'll be back again."

Then he was gone. Wolf sank down to the floor as the cat crawled out from under the bed.

"You had the right idea, Neko. Next time that creep comes around, I'm hiding under there with you."

He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that the encounter had left behind. As the day wore on, Wolf found it harder and harder to separate the facts he knew about Vash from the questions that continued to outnumber them.

* * *

Wolf returned from class that night to find Vash, Meryl, and Millie waiting for him in the atrium. He had forgotten about the party that Millie had invited them to. In fact, parties were among Wolf's least favorite events to attend, but he could hardly say no to the three smiling faces before him.

"Millie's got the keg and I've got the whiskey!" Vash shouted. "Put your party hat on and let's go!"

Meryl's station wagon was parked outside. It was a particularly ugly vehicle, faded blue with imitation wood paneling. Meryl had to try a few times to get it started, the engine coughing as it turned over. Wolf noticed with aggravation that Vash, who'd been so quick to ridicule his bike, had nothing to say about Meryl's dumpster of a car.

The next few minutes were a blur. Millie and Vash talked excitedly about some horror movie they'd both seen, Meryl teased Millie about how she'd cried during the scary parts, and Millie retaliated by describing how Meryl hadn't let go of her hand throughout the entire movie. Wolf had nothing to add to the conversation, but he felt comfortable with everyone talking around him, with Vash sitting so close to him in the backseat of the car. He noticed when Millie laid her head on Meryl's shoulder, and Meryl took one hand off the wheel to loop her arm in Millie's. Maybe it was simply because they weren't on duty that they felt they could be closer, but Wolf hoped it had something to do with how they saw him, too. There were so few people he'd met that were like him, like who he wanted to be. From the moment he'd seen Meryl and Millie together in the atrium on that first day, he'd wanted to tell them how much hope they'd given him. How he wished he had their bravery.

All four of them stuck together once they got to the house, which made the noise and the crowds and the drinking a lot easier for Wolf to bear. He had a couple of beers, but mostly he sat around watching Meryl and Vash, who were engaged in some kind of drinking contest that involved arm wrestling while taking shots of whiskey.

"No one's ever beaten Derringer Meryl," Millie boasted to Wolf. "She may be small, but she packs a punch."

They were on their fifth or sixth shot, and Wolf could see Vash's arm shaking. Millie refilled the shot glasses in their spare hands, then shouted, "Bang!"

Meryl and Vash threw back the whiskey and slammed their empty glasses down at the same time. For a moment, Meryl had the advantage, but Vash's wrist snapped up again and Meryl began to sweat.

"Towel!" Meryl shouted, and Millie came to her rescue with a dishrag.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Vash yelled. His concentration broken, Meryl saw her chance and forced his arm down a good six inches.

"Bang!"

Vash struggled to hold his arm up while taking the shot. Meryl had a smug grin on her face.

"Shoot him dead, Meryl!" Millie cheered.

Even Wolf was getting into it now. "Are you gonna lose to that little girl, Vash?"

"Bang!"

Vash dropped his glass as soon as he swallowed. His face nearly turned purple. Then Meryl slammed his arm against the table, and he slid out of his chair and collapsed on the floor.

"I win!" Meryl pumped her fist in the air and took a triumphant swig from the bottle of whiskey.

"Didn't I tell you she's the best shot in town?" Millie grabbed the bottle from Meryl and took a long drink, which made her lose her balance.

"Easy, Stun Gun." Meryl smiled, steadying Millie in her arms. Millie leaned into her and kissed her on the lips. Meryl went slack for a moment, weaving her hand through Millie's hair, but then she sat up and pushed her back gently. "Now, cut that out. It's not fair to the loser."

"Yeah, what about me?" Vash lamented drunkenly from the floor.

"You've got Mr. Wolfwood," Millie said as she went for the bottle again. "Don't you think they'd make a cute couple, Meryl?"

Meryl blushed deeply, and Wolf could only hope his face wasn't as red as hers. He didn't dare look at Vash.

But Vash was laughing. "I'll show you, cheater! I can out-romance you any day!" And suddenly Vash had his arms around Wolf and he was kissing him so hard he almost knocked his chair over. And Wolf didn't have time to think about how his breath burned in his mouth or how his face felt like he'd shaved or how he could see the freckle beneath his closed eyelid because Vash let him go and said "Bet you wish you were the loser now, Meryl!" and Millie laughed and the music was loud and God he needed to get out of here, he needed a cigarette, and Vash was drunk and that wasn't a kiss, it was a joke. It was only a joke.

He made his escape while they were pouring another round of drinks, and retreated to the front porch to smoke. It was a cold, cloudless night, and the sting of the wind brought him back to reality. The warmth he'd felt in the car on the way there had disappeared. This wasn't a place for him. Wolf exhaled a plume of smoke and watched it dissolve under the stars.

Vash came looking for him later. He put his hand on Wolf's shoulder and said, "We should do that again sometime."

It could have meant anything. And so, Wolf thought, he had no choice but to believe that it meant nothing at all.


	3. Empty Smile

_Rem used to say that you had to be brave if you wanted to be yourself. Depending on where they are or who they're with, people wear different masks all the time. When you take off your mask and reveal your true face, you risk losing everything. Admiration, approval, desire, trust, love. But you stand to gain it all, tenfold. That is understanding. That is worth the risk, she told us._

_ So she took off her mask, and she lost everything._

_ Since then, I've never been brave enough to try._

* * *

Vash had a headache a mile wide. He stared at the fan on the ceiling for a long time, trying to discern whether the blades were spinning or not spinning. Not spinning, he decided, though he wasn't positive. He would check again later. For now, the more pressing issue was the series of sharp, needlelike pains accosting his right leg.

He raised his head with some difficulty to see a small black cat kneading his thigh and purring.

"Gah!" Vash shot upright, shaking his leg to rid himself of the unwelcome intruder. The cat gave him a swipe on the nose and bounded away, hissing. _How did that thing get in here?_ Vash wondered, rubbing his nose. As he lowered his arm, he noticed a red scab on his wrist that hadn't been there yesterday. He must have been scratching the wounds open in his sleep again.

Vash pulled his sleeve down, self-conscious, but Wolf was nowhere to be seen. He got up and flicked on his computer screen. Eight-thirty. Wolf was probably at work. Vash yawned and stretched. He needed to stop sleeping in so late.

Something on the screen made him pause mid-stretch. There was a document open on the desktop. Blank except for one word.

_KNIVES._

His face went cold. No. This was too soon. He hadn't been here a week yet. How…

Vash curled his hands into fists. There was no time. Find them. Keep them safe.

The first thing he wanted to do was find Wolf, but he had to put the thought out of his mind. Wolf was off-campus, far away. He wouldn't be the target. Someone else was in danger.

Throwing on the nearest set of clothes from the pile on the floor, Vash raced down the hall and descended the stairs to the atrium in such a rush that he tripped and stumbled down the last few steps.

"Are you okay, Mr. Vash?" Millie called out as he dashed through the atrium.

He flashed her a carefree smile. "Running late for class! Be safe today, Millie!" _Please, be safe._

Out the door, across the lawn, crisscrossing sidewalks and dodging the groups of kids heading to class, Vash ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran until Chapel Hall was out of sight and the sidewalk veered off through the trees and the shadow of the science building loomed over him and he saw a figure walking down the steps in his direction…

"Professor Luida!"

The tall, thin woman looked up from the tablet in the crook of her arm and peered through her narrow glasses at the person sprinting toward her.

"Vash?" She raised her chin as he slid to a halt. "I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow."

It took Vash a moment to catch his breath enough to speak. "Is…everyone…all right?"

"Yes, of course." Her tone grew serious. "Do we have a reason to be concerned?"

Vash glanced around them at the buildings, the sidewalks, the empty trees. "I received…something. Could have been a warning, could have been a threat. I'm not sure. But someone's definitely watching."

The professor nodded. "I'll notify our security network. In the meantime, keep in contact. No phone calls, no messages—only in person. You know where to find me."

"Got it."

"And, Vash?"

He lifted his head.

"Take care of yourself. I know you're trying to look after all of us, and that's noble, but when worst comes to worst, remember what's important. You have always come first. You and Nigh, both. Without you, we'd have nothing."

Vash tried to believe her, but his heart was unconvinced. "Thank you, Luida," he said, and though his smile was bright enough to pierce the clouds, there were oceans of pain behind it.

_If you only knew,_ he thought as he watched her walk away. _We are not the ones to thank. Without her, you'd have nothing._

* * *

He had hardly taken three steps back toward the dorm when his phone buzzed in his pocket. The caller ID read _Unknown, _the digits of the phone number replaced by empty squares. Vash answered without speaking.

"Did you get my message?" a voice said.

Vash hesitated. "You're not Knives."

Laughter. "Of course not. I'm merely a friend. Or didn't your roommate tell you?"

_Wolf. _An icy fist closed up his throat.

"Sorry, I must have touched a nerve." The voice was almost gleeful. "Don't worry, he didn't seem much interested in me. Besides, I'm here on business."

"What kind of business?"

"The information gathering kind. You've helped immensely, by the way. I should say thanks. You led us right to her."

Vash went rigid. "Who is this? _Where are you?_" He spun around, searching the trees. "Answer me!"

No reply. The call was ended. Vash stood sweating, shivering. His urge to run and find the professor again was countered by the fear that he was being watched. _Remember what's important,_ she'd said. Vash slowed his breathing, forced himself calm.

_Luida, I hope you know what you're doing._

He took one step, then another. That was how, eventually, he made it back to Chapel Hall.

* * *

Wolf returned from work around three in the afternoon. Vash hugged him as soon as he came in the door.

"Um…" Wolf's shoulders tensed. "What…"

Vash realized what he was doing and thumped Wolf on the back several times with his fist, laughing dismissively. "Good to see you! How're you doing?"

The last thump made Wolf stagger forward, coughing. "Fine," he wheezed. "The hell's the matter with you?"

"Nothing! I'm great!" The more nervous he became, the louder he laughed.

Wolf took a step back, examining him. "You're wearing my sweater," he said.

"Am I?" Vash looked down at the clothes he'd thrown on that morning. "No wonder the sleeves are too short."

In one swift motion, Wolf grabbed the hem of the sweater and pulled it over Vash's head. "Give it back, then," he started to grumble, but stopped when he saw Vash's arm. "Hey," he said, his voice softer. "What happened?"

Vash felt a stab of guilt. The sleeve of his undershirt was marked with dried bloodstains. He tried to hide it, but Wolf reached for his wrist and pushed up his sleeve.

The pain in Wolf's eyes made him feel like the worst person in the world. He couldn't stand to look at Wolf's face, or his own arm, so he turned his head away. The grip on his wrist grew tighter, then slowly loosened.

Wolf said, "You got any bandages? Antiseptic?"

It wasn't the response he expected. Vash nodded, cautiously.

"You've done this before, right?" Wolf watched as Vash unpacked a small box from his backpack. "You should know better than to let those get infected. Come on."

Vash followed Wolf to the bathroom down the hall and obediently put his arm under the faucet. Wolf leaned against the door with his arms folded.

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice," Vash admitted as he rinsed the old blood from his wrist. The warm water stung on the newer scabs.

"I noticed the first day," Wolf told him.

Vash looked up in surprise. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Wolf shrugged, his eyes sliding away. "I didn't think you'd want to talk about it."

Turning off the faucet, Vash paused before he picked up the bottle of antiseptic and took off the cap. "You were right," he said.

Wolf was silent as Vash finished cleaning the wounds and unrolled a length of fabric bandage. He struggled with the tape for a moment before Wolf said, "Let me get that."

"Thanks," Vash mumbled, feeling the slight pressure of Wolf's hands as he wound the bandage snug and taped it in place. When he'd finished, Vash clung to Wolf's sleeve. Neither of them said anything.

He wanted to hold on longer, but he thought he was being weird enough already, so he let go.

Wolf left for class that evening without another word spoken between them. Vash sat on the bed for a long time staring at the new, clean bandage, Professor Luida's voice repeating itself in his head. _Take care of yourself._ He thought of Wolf's face again, the hurt in his eyes, and he slouched over with his head in his arms.

Why did he have to care so much?

He fell asleep sometime later, thinking about Wolf.

* * *

The house was on fire.

Vash blinked his eyes. He was alone in the room, in the dark. The smell of smoke hung in the air. An orange glow lit the doorframe.

"Nigh?" Vash called. "Where are you?"

He climbed down from the bed. He was so small.

"Mom? Dad?"

The crackle of flames from beyond the room. He reached for the doorknob, and the heat seared his hand. He screamed.

"Help! Nigh! Someone!"

Tears spilled out of his eyes, down his cheeks. The fire roared, the flames curling around the bottom of the door. He ran for the window and struggled to push it open.

"Please! Someone help me!"

A voice cried faintly over the roar. "Vash!"

His heart stopped beating. "Rem?" he whispered.

"Nigh! Vash! Can you hear me?" It was coming from downstairs. Vash stared at the door, the frame around it buckling and groaning in the heat. Then he remembered.

"Rem! Get out! Get out of the house!"

The door burst open in a blinding explosion, smoky embers clouding the air. Vash covered his burning face, coughing.

A scream pierced the thick air, pierced his entire being.

"Rem!" he shouted, sobbing. "_Rem! Rem!_ _Rem—_"

* * *

"No!" Vash cried, jolting awake. The smell of smoke hung in the air. He was in the dark, alone…

No, not alone. Wolf was at the window, a cigarette burning between his lips.

"You said you wouldn't do that in here," Vash muttered shakily. His heart was still pounding, the tears fresh in his eyes.

"We all have bad habits," Wolf said, his gaze traveling to Vash's arm. "Stop that."

Vash looked down. His right hand had been digging at the bandage, tearing open the scabs. His left wrist throbbed with dull heat.

"I can't stand the smell of smoke," Vash said, tugging the bandage back into place.

Wolf took a long drag on the cigarette. "Get used to it. I don't have any patience for people with double standards."

"It's not that. It…reminds me of something bad that happened. Something I want to forget."

After a moment, Wolf put out the cigarette and stood up. "Well, sorry. I have things I want to forget, too. And that's hard when one of them is staring me in the face."

Vash frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Wolf shut the window and turned his back on Vash. "Don't worry about it."

Vash lay awake the rest of the night. Before the sun came up, when Wolf was asleep on the floor, Vash got out of bed and went to stand beside him. He watched Wolf's chest rise and fall, listened to the slow and steady breathing. Then he crouched down and slid one arm behind Wolf's neck, the other beneath his knees, lifted him from the floor and carried him to the bed. He laid him carefully on the mattress and quietly crept out of the room.

_Don't get so sentimental,_ he warned himself. _You knew it was a bad idea from the start._

But as he left the silent building and walked out into the early morning chill, he couldn't put his feelings behind him. No matter how fast he ran, they'd always catch up eventually.


	4. Heavy Cross

_After Mom disappeared, my father packed me off to St. Michael's Academy. Said even if I was a good-for-nothing piece of shit, at least I was going to get a decent Catholic education. He was as glad to be rid of me as I was to be rid of him. I spent most of my holidays at school and only had to stay with him once a year, for summer vacation. For a while, St. Michael's was my home._

_ When I came to Augusta, I left every shred of that place behind me. Including St. Michael's. Including my old name. But there's one person I'll always remember. One name I don't want to forget._

* * *

Nicholas sat down in the dark booth and tucked his hands under his knees. He stared at the closed door and took a deep breath.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…uh…two hours since my last confession…"

"What is it this time, Nicholas? Smoking in the bathroom? Skipping algebra again?"

"Brother Matthias?" Nicholas turned and peered through the wooden screen beside him. "What are you doing here? Only Father Chapel is allowed to hear confessions—"

"Father Chapel is out on an errand. Everyone else is in class, where they're supposed to be. But I heard a certain student of mine was in need of spiritual guidance, and I thought perhaps I could help."

Nicholas looked down at his feet. "I'm glad it's you in there and not him. But won't you get in trouble?"

"If you want to be technical about it, yes. I can't grant you absolution, anyway. Would you rather talk in my office?"

"No. I'd rather stay in here, if that's okay."

"I won't tell if you don't." He could hear the smile in Brother Matthias's voice. "What's on your mind?"

Nicholas bit his lip. He felt sick. "I'm kind of afraid to tell you. Are you going to have to tell Father Chapel?"

"Nothing leaves this room. I promise."

"Okay." He exhaled slowly. "It's the new kid. Livio. He was crying again, and these guys were making fun of him so I told them to…you know…screw off. But with the other word."

"That hardly constitutes a mortal sin, Nicholas."

"That's not the bad part. After they left and Livio was just sitting there, I wanted to stay because, I don't know, he looked so sad, and we talked for a while, and when he was feeling better he hugged me, and I wanted to k—k—I wanted to—"

"Kill him? Commit a crime? Curse the name of God?"

"_Kiss_ him," Nicholas blurted out angrily. He could feel his face burning up in shame, and tears welled in his eyes. "I didn't do it. But every time I see him, I feel—so awful. So wrong. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what I did to deserve this." He scrubbed at his face, but the tears kept coming. "Am I—am I being punished? Is it some kind of test?"

He covered his mouth with his hands, trying to smother the sobs that kept heaving out of his chest. He cried until he could breathe again, his heart worn out and his body numb.

"Nicholas," Brother Matthias said at last. "Forgive us. Forgive me. Please."

"What?" Nicholas sniffed.

"Listen to me. I am going to say something dangerous, but it must be said. You are not being punished. It's not a test. You have done nothing wrong."

"B—But Father Chapel says that homosexuality is inherently evil and—"

"We are fallible, Nicholas. We are followers of an ancient mystery and we are bound by the limits of our fragile minds. To this day, we argue over the truth. The only truth we know for certain is this: that we are human. Even Father Chapel, if you can believe that."

Nicholas laughed, rubbing his nose with his sleeve.

"You have always been so diligent in your own search for truth," Brother Matthias went on. "You're skipping class to go to confession, for God's sake. And I wish I'd known sooner the toll it's been taking. You carry a great weight on your shoulders, Nicholas Wolfwood. You carry the burden that should have belonged to us, to the ones who taught you these human ideas without the knowledge of the harm they'd cause. That is why I am asking for your forgiveness. I am asking you to absolve us."

Nicholas looked up, startled. "You can't say that. I can't…"

"Wrong. _Only_ you can. You alone."

He wanted to argue, but Brother Matthias was so sincere that he felt he had no choice. So Nicholas said the prayer of absolution, his voice barely a whisper.

"May we both go with God," Brother Matthias said, making the sign of the cross.

Those were the last words Nicholas would ever hear him say. The next morning, Father Chapel called an assembly and announced that Brother Matthias would no longer be teaching at St. Michael's. And that's when everything began to fall apart.

* * *

Wolf stared out the library window at the rain falling outside. He hadn't thought about that day in a long time, but the memory was fresh in his mind. He looked down at the textbook in his lap, the page he'd been trying to study for the last hour. Before he could make it through the first paragraph, the words swam together and the lines blurred. Wolf closed the book, a headache setting in.

He hadn't seen Vash all day. That morning at work, he'd made up his mind to apologize, feeling like a jerk over what he'd said the night before. But Vash wasn't in the room, and Meryl and Millie said they hadn't seen him, either.

_Maybe he'll be back tonight,_ Wolf thought, packing up his books and putting on his coat. He hoped Vash hadn't done anything stupid. He was afraid to think about it for too long.

Wolf bought a second cup of coffee from the shop downstairs and decided to go back to Chapel Hall one more time before he went to class. The rain was a freezing downpour, and by the time he reached the dorm his coat was nearly soaked through. He waved to Millie in the atrium and headed upstairs, a path of rainwater dripping behind him.

He opened the door to see Vash standing by the window, drenched and shivering. The lights were out, and the dreary afternoon cast everything in a dark shade of blue. Wolf stepped in and flipped the light switch.

Vash flinched, turning on his heel as though he were expecting some predator to sneak up on him. Then he relaxed and smiled a little. "Nice weather we're having." His teeth chattered as he said it.

_He must have gotten back right before I did. _Wolf saw the thin clothes clinging to his frame, the pool of water forming at his feet, but none of it registered until he came closer and realized how badly Vash was shivering. How pale blue his skin looked, and not because of the light.

"God." Wolf reached for his hand. It was colder than the air outside. "Vash, how long were you out there?"

"I don't know." The words took too long for his lips to form. "I went for a run. You're home from work early, aren't you?"

Wolf felt a lump in his throat as he unbuttoned his coat and wrapped it around Vash's shoulders. "I came home hours ago. It's almost six."

Vash didn't look like he entirely comprehended what Wolf was saying. "Guess I ran pretty far," he tried to laugh.

Wolf pulled him into his arms without thinking. He held him there, cold and trembling, until his eyes blurred and the tears ran down with the rainwater. Until he wasn't sure whose heartbeat he felt hammering against his ribcage. Then he sat Vash beside the space heater and turned it up high.

"Wait here, all right?" Wolf gathered every blanket he could find and piled them over Vash. "I'm going to go get help."

"Don't do that," Vash said, even as a violent shudder ran down his spine. "I'm fine. Really."

Wolf slammed the door on him. _Idiot. You've gotten yourself into enough trouble already._

He reached the atrium, only to find an R.A. he didn't recognize standing at the desk. "Millie just left," the R.A. told him. "You might catch her if you run."

Wolf bolted out into the rain. And when he caught a glimpse of brown hair shining under a parking lot streetlight, he waved like crazy.

"Millie!" he panted when he caught up to her. "Thank God. I need your help."

* * *

They ended up in Meryl and Millie's room, which was a spacious double with its own bathroom and a fireplace built into the ancient stonework. "It gets colder on the first floor during the winter," Meryl explained, but Wolf couldn't help feeling cheated.

As Meryl struck a match and the fireplace came to life with a warm red glow, Vash awoke with a gasp. He'd only been half conscious when they helped him to the couch, and now his eyes were wide and he'd started shaking again. Wolf sat down beside him. "You okay?"

Vash stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the flames. Then Wolf remembered what he'd said last night, about hating the smell of smoke.

"It's not the smoke you're afraid of, is it?" Wolf kept his voice low, so Millie and Meryl wouldn't hear. "We're safe. Don't be scared."

The shivering subsided a little. Vash rested his head on Wolf's shoulder, and though Wolf's first instinct was to worry about whether anyone was watching, he found that he didn't really care.

"I'll make some tea," Millie offered.

"You have a kitchen, too?" Wolf griped. "Hang on, I can do that."

"No, stay there." Millie smiled and nodded toward Vash. "Looks like you're helping."

Wolf glanced down at Vash, who was almost asleep. His face had some of its color back and his hair was starting to dry. Wolf took a quilt from the arm of the couch and spread it over them both.

Meryl rolled her desk chair over and sat beside them in front of the fire. "Does he do this kind of thing often?" she asked Wolf.

"What kind of thing?"

"The running around in a thunderstorm for ten hours straight in nothing but his pajamas kind of thing."

"Not that one specifically. But generally…maybe."

Millie brought the tea tray over and set it on the hearth. She gave a cup to Wolf, and he held it up to Vash's chin. Vash blinked his eyes open sleepily.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" he mumbled.

"They'll survive without me," Wolf replied. "You, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about."

Vash only took a few sips of the tea before he fell asleep again. Wolf finished off the rest of the tea with Meryl and Millie as the room grew warm around them. After a while, Meryl retreated to her desk to do some homework and Millie sat by the fire typing on her laptop for the better part of an hour. Wolf felt himself nodding off, so he talked to stay awake.

"What are you writing, Millie?"

"Oh, just some emails," Millie said brightly.

"She writes to her family every night," Meryl said without looking up from her work. "Immediate and extended. She has about twenty brothers and sisters."

"That's not true! I only have six."

"Well, if you count the cousins and the aunts and uncles and grandmothers, it's more like twenty."

Wolf's eyelids grew heavy. He caught himself drifting off in the middle of their banter, and shook his head to clear the haze. "I guess we'd better get going," he said, yawning. "Sorry to trouble you both for so long."

"Oh." Meryl stood up. "I assumed you were staying the night. You're welcome to sleep there, you know."

"Isn't that against the rules?"

Meryl wore her strictest scowl. "We make the rules, Mr. Wolfwood." Then her mouth slid into a smile. It was the first time Wolf had heard her make a joke. He smiled back.

"Seriously, it's a comfortable couch," Meryl said. "There's even an extra bed that we never use, if you want it. Come to think, we should probably move that thing up to your room…"

Wolf was starting to doze again, but this time he didn't fight it. Underneath the quilt, he found Vash's hand and held it in his. Then the folds of darkness came down, and a blissful silence, and finally sleep, deep and dreamless.

* * *

Sometime that night Wolf woke to find the fire dying, the embers glimmering faintly in the dark. He stood up to put another log on the fire, careful not to wake Vash. As the flames stirred, Wolf could see the R.A. girls asleep in the corner of the room, Millie's arm wrapped around Meryl, the firelight warm on their faces. The room reminded Wolf of another room he'd been in long ago, one of the few places he'd ever felt safe and welcome. He sat by the fire for a minute, building it up with tinder and new logs, then went back to the couch where Vash had curled up on his side.

Wolf watched the light flicker around the curves of his face, the ends of his hair. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and probably hadn't eaten, either. But then again, neither had Wolf.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against Vash's mouth. Warm breath, fevered skin, the taste of fire. Wolf raised his head.

_That was for Tuesday night,_ he thought with a weak smile. And he curled up on the couch beside Vash with both arms around him.

* * *

Wolf was late for work the next morning. He couldn't get his bike to start and so he had to pedal the whole way, wearing himself out by the time he got there. Amelia shot him angry looks all through class, but when they sat down alone in the classroom for their lunch break, Wolf noticed a smug grin on her face.

"Something funny?" he asked, picking at the meager salad he'd bought in the cafeteria.

"No," Amelia replied. "Just wondering when you're going to tell me who you did last night."

Wolf choked on a leaf of lettuce, and Amelia laughed. "You're so transparent."

"As usual, I have no clue what you're talking about," Wolf rasped.

"Quit stalling. You were late for work, your clothes look like you slept in them, and you've been making that same bleary-eyed cow face all morning. Who's been tickling your tonsils, Wolfwood?"

"_No one _has been—what the hell kind of expression is that? Leave me alone, already."

Amelia took a bite of her sandwich. "Maybe I _should_ report all those tardy slips to your advisor. At this rate, you're going to lose your job and your stipend. The faculty might decide not to let you take that trip this winter, after all."

Wolf glared at her. "You wouldn't."

She shrugged and let out a sigh. "No. Unfortunately, the kids like you too much. And you can be helpful, every once in a blue moon."

He relaxed. "Good. Because I'm not going to tell you anything."

"What? Now I _know_ you're hiding something!"

The bell rang to signal the end of the lunch period, and Amelia pestered him as they walked down the hall to fetch the third graders. "Give me a name, at least!"

"Ms. Amelia, you should be ashamed of yourself." Wolf put his finger to his lips in mock reproach. "Not in front of the children."

"I'm gonna rip your hair out _and_ get you fired," Amelia muttered.

* * *

Vash had come down with a cold that day, so Wolf expected him to be asleep when he returned. But he opened the door to find Vash sitting on the floor amid a mess of papers and open books, scribbling furiously on a notepad.

"You should be in bed." Wolf noticed with disappointment that Vash hadn't showered or changed the bandage on his wrist, and he was only wearing a T-shirt and shorts in the clammy room. _Honestly, how has he lived this long?_ Wolf wondered. "Turn on the heater, anyway," he said.

"No time. Too many things," Vash murmured, not looking up from the notepad.

_Probably catching up on all the classwork he's missed._ Wolf picked up a sheet of paper and studied it. "Whoa. Vash, I think you need to chill. Nobody's going to accept a paper that's written in hieroglyphics."

Vash stared at him with wild, frightened eyes. "Help me. I can't figure it out."

His face was flushed and beading with sweat. "What are you talking about?" Wolf sat down in front of him, prying the notepad from his trembling hands. Clipped to the first page was a crossword puzzle torn from a newspaper, the letter boxes filled in and crossed out and erased several times over. Vash had scrawled rows of letters in odd combinations that covered every page of the notepad, with indecipherable symbols and doodles scattered throughout.

Wolf laughed. "Okay, it's time for you to take a nap."

"It's a message, Wolf. Hidden in the letters."

"Yeah, I know. We can decode it later."

"He was here, wasn't he? Did you see him? Was he here?"

The fear in Vash's voice was beginning to make Wolf nervous. He had a sudden image of the creepy blue-haired guy who came looking for Vash three days ago. _No, this is definitely not a good time to ask about that._

"It's just us," Wolf said. "Hold on, I'll help you up."

Vash gripped his arm a little too tightly as Wolf dragged him to the bed. "Not safe," he mumbled, over and over.

"You're fine," Wolf said. "Everything's fine." But after Vash closed his eyes and he looked around at the paper-strewn floor, Wolf wasn't sure he believed his own words.

* * *

His evening class was cancelled, so Wolf stayed in with Vash. Not that he would have had much of a choice. Every time he opened the door to go to the bathroom down the hall or to buy food in the refectory, Vash begged him not to leave, pleading to the point of tears. So Wolf was relieved when Meryl knocked on the door that night and asked if they needed anything.

"I wanted to check on Vash," she said. "Is he feeling any better?"

"He's got a fever." Wolf was reluctant to say anything about the crossword puzzle. "I hate to ask, Meryl, but could you take my wallet and buy us some food? I'm kind of…stuck here."

"Close the door!" Vash's alarmed voice rang out in the room. "It's not safe! Close the door!"

Meryl peered around the door, eyebrows arched. "He's been like this for a while," Wolf said.

"Are you sure we don't need to take him to the clinic?" Meryl asked.

Wolf thought about the scars on Vash's arm and shook his head earnestly. "No, I think he just needs some rest. And maybe some cold medicine."

Meryl took his wallet and put it in her pocket. "I'll see if I can find something. Call Millie if you need help while I'm gone. She's at the desk right now."

"Thanks, Meryl. I mean it."

He put a hand on her shoulder, and she smiled. "Hey, it's our job to keep an eye on you."

Wolf closed the door when she left. He sat down on the floor beside the bed and leaned his head on the mattress next to Vash. _What I wouldn't give for a smoke, _he thought.

Was this going to be his life from now on? For the rest of the semester, anyway. But when Wolf thought about it, he couldn't imagine ever leaving Vash's side.

He felt Vash's hand reaching for his head, tugging at his hair.

"I'm right here," Wolf said.

_And I always will be._


	5. Not an Angel

_The first time I fired a gun, I was ten years old. I pulled the trigger and there was a flash of light. One bullet was all it took. The man died right in front of me, his blood spraying my face. I screamed and I screamed. All I wanted was to turn the gun on myself and fire again, but somebody stopped me._

_ To this day, I wish he hadn't._

* * *

Vash sat in the bluish glow of his laptop screen with his knees pulled up to his chin. He had found the scrap of newspaper in the pile that Wolf had gathered from the floor and left in a stack on the desk. Vash scanned the empty boxes left in the crossword. _Think. He sent you this because he knew you'd figure it out._ But Vash had been grappling with the puzzle for hours, and he hadn't made any progress.

With a heavy sigh, Vash folded the crossword and tucked it in his pocket. He looked across the room at Wolf asleep on the bed, the first feeble rays of dawn streaming through the window. Vash wished he knew how to thank Wolf for putting up with him over the last couple of days. He wasn't used to depending on anyone else. The fact that he'd troubled Wolf so much made him feel rotten inside.

_All right. _Vash stood up, renewing his resolve. _I can do this._

He took a shower and changed his clothes. He cleaned the wounds on his arm and put on a new bandage. He straightened the room and took a load of clothes down to the laundry in the basement. On his way back up, he spotted Millie on the staircase, still in her pajamas.

"Millie!"

"Oh, hi Mr. Vash! Feeling better today?"

"Tons." Vash grinned. "I need to ask you for a favor, though. Would it be okay if I borrowed your kitchen this morning?"

* * *

Wolf was completely confused when he came to Meryl and Millie's door an hour later, barefoot and disheveled with a crumpled note in his hand. "Have you guys seen Vash?" he asked. "There was this note—"

He stopped talking as Meryl and Millie showed him inside. Vash was standing in the narrow kitchen with a skillet full of eggs. "You're just in time!" Vash smiled. "Have a seat."

Wolf looked from the R.A. girls to Vash and back again. Vash could hardly contain his amusement.

"But you—" Wolf spluttered. "You were—"

"Come sit down, Mr. Wolfwood!" Millie waved him over to the folding table they'd set up in the middle of the room. "Mr. Vash made breakfast for everyone!"

"You've all been so nice to me," Vash said as he set out the plates. "I wanted to say thanks."

He caught Wolf's gaze when he said this. Wolf was at a loss for words.

Millie started up a conversation with Vash as they dug into the eggs and toast. Vash complained about the homework for their art class, and Meryl showed off the painting that Millie had already completed. Wolf didn't speak, but Vash looked over at him every so often and smiled. He hoped it was enough, though he felt it never would be.

Wolf helped Vash with the dishes when they were finished. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked.

"One hundred percent," Vash replied.

"Because you don't have to lie if you're not."

Vash paused in the middle of stacking the plates. He snuck a glance at Wolf's dark eyes, deep and sincere. Then he put the dishes down and wrapped his arms around Wolf.

"I'm sorry," Vash said. "About everything."

After a moment, Wolf's shoulders went slack and he laid his head against Vash's chest. "It's okay."

Vash didn't want to let go of him for a long time. Wolf didn't seem to want to move, either, but he mumbled into Vash's jacket, "I have to go soon. Mentoring."

"Can I come with you? I don't have anywhere to be today."

Wolf considered this. "I guess that would be okay. You'll have to help out, though."

Vash put away the last of the dishes and smiled. "That's what I'm here for."

* * *

The churchyard was alive with screams and laughter. In the warm sunlight, children of all ages were racing around the playground, including one very tall, very loud, blonde boy.

"Whoever catches me gets sixty billion dollars!" Vash yelled, running from one end of the yard to the other. The kids bolted after him, arms outstretched.

"No fair! You're too fast!"

"Let's corner him! He's going for the fence!"

Two kids sprang from behind a picnic table and grabbed Vash's ankles, throwing him to the ground. Vash shrieked, "I've been ambushed! Help!" as the mob of children caught up, pinning him down.

"Isn't anyone going to save me?" Vash cried beneath the trampling feet.

"You promised us sixty billion dollars! Search his pockets!"

Vash screamed and tried to roll away. "Police! Police!"

"Liar! You're broke!"

"Let's get him!"

When the game finally ended, Vash couldn't lift himself from the ground. His sides ached from laughing. _I haven't laughed that hard in a long time,_ Vash thought, closing his eyes with a tired smile.

"Vash?"

His eyes blinked open. A little girl was standing next to him, holding out a folded slip of paper. "You dropped this," she said.

Vash recognized the faded newsprint before he opened it. The crossword must have fallen out of his pocket when they were playing. Good thing it hadn't gone far. Vash sat up and was about to thank her, then he opened the paper and his smile vanished.

One of the words had been filled in.

The cool breeze suddenly felt frigid. "Did you write this?" Vash asked the girl, his throat dry.

Her eyes filled up with tears. "I didn't want to."

"What do you mean? What happened?" Vash took her hands in his, but she pulled them away.

"He made me do it," she whimpered.

Vash felt a knife of fear in his chest. "Who?"

The little girl pointed toward the fence. On the other side stood a man Vash had never seen before. He was about Vash's height and looked to be the same age. His hair was dark blue. Vash couldn't tell whether he was looking back at him or not.

"Go and find Mr. Wolf," Vash whispered to the girl. "But stay inside, okay?"

She nodded and ran for the door. Vash stood up.

_Have a moment to chat, Vash the Stampede?_

He froze. At first Vash thought the man had spoken, but he hadn't seen his lips move. And he was standing too far away. He shouldn't be able to hear…

_No, you shouldn't. But you can._

The voice was unmistakable this time. The man was talking to him, but not out loud. And he'd heard that voice before.

_You're the one who called me,_ Vash thought.

_Very nice, detective. I was beginning to think you were hopeless at solving puzzles._

Vash squeezed his fist around the paper. _What did you do to that little girl?_

_ The same thing I'm doing to you. Why? Are you afraid?_

He tried not to think about the chill crawling up the back of his neck. But even from a distance, he could see the man's smile.

_Where is Knives? _Vash asked him silently.

_Empty boxes, Vash. Fill them in and you'll find out. I already gave you a hint._

Vash stared down at the crossword, the letters scrawled by a child's hand. _Puppets._

_Look at them, _the voice said, and Vash felt almost as if his head was being turned by someone else to face the playground, the laughing children.

_I want you to remember their faces. And remember who's pulling the strings. There may come a day when you will be forced to decide their fates._

Vash felt the blood roaring in his veins. _You won't lay a hand on them._

_ I won't have to._

The wind shivered in the grass, and the sounds of the churchyard flooded back into Vash's ears. He sank to his knees, unable to hold his own weight.

"Vash? What's wrong?"

Wolf was standing in the open doorway of the church. He jogged down the steps toward the playground.

"Stop!" Vash yelled. "Wolf, go back—"

But when he looked behind him in fear, the man was no longer there.

Wolf came to his side, reaching for his hand to help him up. "What's the matter? Kids beat you up?"

Vash found it harder than usual to fake a smile. His legs were unsteady as Wolf led him across the yard. "Come on, let's get everyone inside."

* * *

After Wolf's mentoring session was over, Vash insisted that they stay until the bus arrived to pick up the kids.

"There's a chaperone waiting with them already," Wolf told him.

"I know. But I want to make sure they get home safely."

Wolf seemed curious, but he didn't press the issue. They sat on the steps outside the church and watched the small crowd of children talking and playing games on the sidewalk. Vash hadn't taken his eyes off them since the blue-haired stranger had disappeared.

"Who takes care of these kids?" he asked Wolf.

"Foster families, mostly. Some of them have parents who work a lot and need a free daycare. A lot of them came from bad home situations. The church started this program last year, and I got my advisor to let me volunteer for service credit."

One of the older boys came over to the steps and waved shyly at Wolf. He looked like he was eleven or twelve years old, with messy brown hair and a sullen face. A book was tucked under his arm.

"What is it, Shepherd?" Wolf asked. "Need some more help with that chapter?"

The boy nodded.

"Come sit with us. I'll read it with you." As the boy climbed the stairs and sat next to them, Wolf said, "This is my friend Vash."

Shepherd peered around Wolf and lifted his hand timidly. Vash smiled and held up his hand in response.

"Show me the page you're on," Wolf said.

Vash watched as Wolf talked him through a passage in the book, sounding out the words and pausing to let Shepherd read them over again. The boy never spoke a word, but Wolf didn't seem to have any trouble understanding what he needed. They read together until the bus pulled up and the other children began to file onboard. Shepherd waited until the last minute to wave goodbye and run down the steps.

"See you next week," Wolf called. The boy looked over his shoulder and gave Wolf the hint of a smile before heading onto the bus.

Wolf turned to see Vash beaming from ear to ear.

"Now there's a sight I never thought I'd see again," Wolf said as they stood up to leave.

"What do you mean?" Vash asked.

"All this time you've been trying to look happy, while something was eating you alive. But just now, you smiled for real."

Vash felt as if someone had taken off his mask for the very first time. He wasn't sure if he was happy or sad or scared or relieved. Maybe he was all of them at once.

He followed Wolf down the sidewalk through town as leaves drifted down from the trees.

"Are you Shepherd's mentor?" he asked after a while.

"Yeah. They assigned him to me when I first started volunteering. Nobody else knows how to talk to him."

"Does he ever say anything?"

Wolf narrowed his eyes. "He says plenty of things. Couldn't you tell? Not everyone needs a voice to speak."

Vash picked at the bandage under his sleeve. "Sorry. That was stupid of me."

Silence for a minute. Then Wolf saw what Vash was doing, and gently pulled his hand away from his wrist. Vash gripped Wolf's palm tightly.

"It's not easy for most people to understand," Wolf continued. "I used to have trouble with words, though, so it makes sense to me."

They turned a corner and stopped to wait at a crosswalk. "You're a really good person, Wolf."

"Huh?" Wolf looked at him and blushed. "No, I'm not."

"I think you are. Shepherd trusts you. All the kids do. I mean, you spent your whole day helping them. And you help the kids at your job all week long. I've never met anyone so selfless."

Wolf was even more embarrassed now. "Don't say stuff like that. There's nothing special about me. Besides, you seem better with the kids than I am. They were laughing so loud on the playground, I could hear them inside the church. Those boys and girls haven't had much laughter in their lives. If you can make them smile, you must be doing something right."

The walk sign blinked on, and they crossed the street. "I like it when people are happy," Vash said. "But when they're sad, or afraid, or angry, I don't know what to do. I saw how you were with Shepherd. You didn't have to make him smile. You didn't try to make him into someone he wasn't. That's probably why he's comfortable around you. And that's why I think you're a good person. Because you like people the way they are."

Vash waited for a response, but Wolf was quiet and his face was turned away. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and took out a pair of sunglasses, sniffing as he put them on.

"Are you crying, Wolf?"

"_What?_" Wolf barked. "_No._" He sniffed again. "Goddamn sun's too bright."

Vash smirked. He didn't say anything when Wolf pretended to sneeze so he could wipe his face.

A ringtone trilled in Wolf's pocket, and he took out his phone to read the message on the screen. "Millie invited us to another party."

He didn't sound particularly pleased. "Do you want to go?" Vash asked.

"I don't know. I have a lot of homework."

"But it's Saturday!"

"Well…if you're going, I guess I might."

Vash grinned. He was beginning to feel the warmth of the sunlight, feel the world righting itself again. Maybe it was because of the easy conversation, or maybe it was because of the beautiful afternoon weather.

But mainly, Vash thought, it was because Wolf hadn't let go of his hand for the entire walk home.

* * *

They drove to the party in Meryl's station wagon, the windows rolled down and the radio tuned to Millie's favorite eighties station. Vash and Millie knew every word to every song. Meryl and Wolf exchanged long-suffering glances in the rearview mirror.

As soon as they reached the house, Vash challenged Meryl to another shootout, and within minutes they were halfway through a bottle of whiskey with their arms battling on the table.

"Want to know a secret?" Vash asked Meryl through clenched teeth. "Last time, when you thought you beat me…_I let you win._"

"Nice try," Meryl growled. "Who taught you how to bluff? Millie?"

By the twelfth shot, both their arms were shaking.

"Maybe you should call it a draw," Wolf said, swishing around what little was left of the whiskey.

"Shut up and pour!" Vash and Meryl yelled in unison.

Wolf emptied the bottle into their glasses and muttered, "Bang."

Sometime later, Vash woke up with his head on the table. Meryl lay across from him, her hand still loosely entwined with his.

"Who won?" Vash groaned.

Meryl failed to lift her head. "Don't know. Where…Millie…"

Vash sat up and lost his vision for a moment. "Think I'm gonna puke."

"Not here," Meryl protested.

The wave of nausea passed, but Vash's head felt like it was about to roll off his shoulders. He slumped forward on the table again. "I was winning," he mumbled.

"Just keep telling yourself."

They snoozed on the table for a while, until the haze lifted a bit and Vash was able to stagger to the refrigerator for a soda. "You want one?" he asked Meryl.

"Sure."

Vash sat down and passed her a can. They toasted, weakly.

"Guess Wolf and Millie got tired of us," Vash said.

"They don't know what they're missing." Meryl took a long gulp of soda. "Why don't you go find Wolf? I saw the way he was staring at you earlier."

She gave him a sidelong smile, but Vash was perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he was giving you the same look Millie gives me when she wants me to take her to bed."

Vash considered this. "You think he's sleepy?"

Meryl's eyes widened. "Um…no."

An awkward silence descended. They took alternating sips of their drinks, until Meryl finally said, "You do _like_ Wolf, don't you?"

Vash was surprised. "Of course!" But then he saw Meryl's expression, and the pieces fell into place. "Oh, you mean…oh." He wrapped both hands around the can of soda, feeling the cold condensation on his palms, and stared down at the table. "I guess I haven't really thought about it like that before."

Meryl tried a different approach. "What do you feel when you see him?"

_When I see him…_ Vash pictured dark eyes and a solemn face, the hand that held his that afternoon. "I'm always glad to see him. But it's better if he's smiling. I want him to be happy all the time." He thought of Wolf sitting with Shepherd on the church steps, Wolf smoking at the window, Wolf taping the bandage on his arm. "I want to look after him, but it seems like he's the one who always ends up looking after me. I don't know how that makes me feel. All I know is that I want to spend every last day with him."

Vash was too embarrassed to look at Meryl. Tears came to his eyes, unwanted. Then he felt her hand on his cheek.

"You're something else, Vash." Her voice was quiet. "He's lucky to have you."

He reached up and squeezed her hand. _No,_ he thought. _I'm the lucky one._ Meryl, and Millie, and Wolf…no one in the world had ever meant so much to him, not since Rem. He wanted to hold onto them as long as he could.

And so he knew he had to protect them, whatever the cost may be.


	6. Sanctuary

_ His name was Livio. He was twelve years old, I was thirteen. Both of his parents had died that year, and his remaining family, none of whom had time to raise a child, sent him to boarding school at St. Michael's Academy. He cried every day for weeks. At first I didn't feel sorry for him. Better to have dead parents who had loved you than to have living ones who treated you like dirt. That was how my young mind saw it, anyway._

_ But Livio didn't even bother to stick up for himself when the other kids bullied him. The more I watched, the angrier I became, until one day I made them sorry they'd ever thought about pushing him around. Livio didn't cry so much after that. We spent a lot of time together, and my opinion of him changed. I wanted to be close to him, watch over him, keep him safe. I'd never felt that way about anyone else before._

_ And for one brief moment, I thought he felt the same way about me._

* * *

The office that had once belonged to Brother Matthias was cold and dark. Nicholas sat in the armchair before the empty fireplace, staring into the shadows with a blank expression. He'd run out of tears hours ago. Now there was nothing but the cold air numbing his face, and a hollow feeling in his chest. He didn't know how long he sat there, but the sun was going down outside when someone finally opened the door.

"I thought I might find you here," Livio said.

Nicholas made no reply.

"Aren't you cold?"

He shrugged.

"Father Chapel sent me to look for you. He wants you to report to—"

"I'm not going anywhere. You can tell him to suck it, for all I care."

"Nicholas…" Livio sounded different, somehow. Like he was shrinking. Like he was scared. "It'll be easier if you just do what he says."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Nicholas glared at Livio. "Are you…are you _siding_ with that sick bastard?"

"There are no sides to the truth." Livio's words seemed fake, rehearsed. "You have to realize that what Brother Matthias did…he was twisted, Nicholas. He was evil."

"You've got to be kidding me." Nicholas stood up, hands clenched into fists. "Don't tell me you actually believe all that shit Father Chapel made up about…" He stopped, suddenly. In the dark, he hadn't seen it right away. "God. Livio, what happened to your face?"

Livio stepped back. He was starting to cry. "Just do what he says. Promise me."

"Did that—did that _monster_—"

Nicholas reached for him, but Livio pushed him away. "Don't touch me!" He struggled for each breath, sobs threatening to take over. "Nicholas…listen to me. What we felt…what you feel…it isn't right. He led you astray. You have to…you have to believe…"

Livio's eyes were shut tight, his shoulders shaking as though he were holding some malignant beast inside of him. "Livio." Nicholas approached him carefully, opening his arms. "This isn't like you. I want to help. Can you tell me what happened to—"

"Stop." Livio's eyes flashed open, dark and spiteful. "Stay away from me. Don't ever come near me again."

Nicholas felt as if he'd just been shot. He stood with his arms spread, the pain slicing his heart open. Livio turned his back and ran out the door. Nicholas heard his footsteps fade down the hall. The one person he cared about. The one person he had left. Livio.

He crumpled on the floor and screamed until his lungs hurt. In a span of less than twenty-four hours, he'd lost the only two people in the world that mattered to him. And with the cruelest clarity, he now understood why Livio had cried so much over his parents. Because loving someone and losing them was a hundred times worse than being beaten by someone who hated you. It made you wish you'd never had the guts to love them at all.

Two days later, Nicholas received the first note.

It was tucked between the pages of his history textbook, a scrap of paper with a single message typed out: _What happened to Brother Matthias was wrong._

Nicholas didn't remember taking the book out of his backpack. He was alone in the library when he found the note, and there was no indication of who had left it.

Another note appeared the next day, this time in his locker: _What happened to Livio was wrong._

He remembered the wound he'd seen on the side of Livio's face. The absolute fear he'd heard in his voice. And then he felt the slightest trace of hope. Someone was on their side. Someone knew the truth.

When Nicholas uncovered the third note, hidden beneath his pillow, he actually felt relieved.

_Chapel will pay for his sins._

Something sinister crept into Nicholas's heart and took hold. He knew it was wrong, but he didn't care. He wanted Father Chapel to be punished. He wanted the note to follow through with its promise.

But he never expected what happened next.

One week after Brother Matthias's dismissal, a second assembly was held. The deacon who stood at the podium seemed uncertain of how to begin. He mopped his brow constantly, gazing around the sanctuary full of students with a look of complete loss on his face. "Everyone," he said at last, "I'm afraid I have some troubling news. It would seem that…early this morning…our beloved Father Chapel, due to a horrible accident…"

Nicholas barely heard the words _has perished_, barely saw the deacon break down in tears at the podium, because his heart was pounding too loud and his vision was blacking out. He bit his lip hard to keep from fainting. _It can't be. This isn't happening._ But the deacon was speaking again, about something that went wrong when Father Chapel started his car, an explosion, a terrible fire…

He thought of the notes in his backpack, in his locker, under his pillow. There would be an investigation. Someone would read them. Someone would suspect him.

When they were dismissed from the assembly, classes cancelled for the day, Nicholas ran to his room and retrieved the notes. He pocketed his lighter and climbed out the window, across the lawn, into the woods where he normally hid to smoke. He set the papers aflame and watched them burn to ash. Then, with the sudden thought that a lighter might seem suspect as well, he threw it into the creek. He had to stay calm. He hadn't done anything wrong. All he did was read the notes.

_And fail to do anything to stop them. _The thought came to his mind in someone else's voice. Brother Matthias. He would never have allowed this to happen. Even though he was the one who'd been wronged.

Nicholas covered his face with his hands. "I didn't want it to go this far," he whispered. "I didn't want him to die. You know that, don't you? This wasn't my fault."

Only silence answered him. He returned to his room to find a slip of paper on the windowsill. The same damned typeface. It read, _This is our revenge_.

Nicholas shredded the note to pieces, hands shaking, throat closing up. No. He wasn't involved. He wasn't a murderer. His tears fell and turned the shreds to pulp. Burying his face in his pillow, Nicholas smothered his frightened sobs and tried not to scream.

Livio caught his attention the next day in class. He looked absolutely wretched. From across the room, his eyes burned into Nicholas with a glare of pure hatred. Then he looked away.

An investigation was conducted. Students were questioned, belongings were searched. No conclusive evidence was ever found to reach a conviction. The event was deemed accidental, a horrible tragedy.

But Nicholas knew the truth. And in the years that passed, after the new priest arrived, after Livio moved away, after he graduated and left St. Michael's behind forever, the truth would continue to haunt him.

* * *

Wolf watched the cigarette burn down to a stub in his hand. He was conscious of the sting as the embers touched his skin, but he didn't react to it. The night breeze ruffled his hair and raised goosebumps on his neck. A muffled bass beat thumped endlessly from inside the house. Then soft footsteps swished through the grass, and Millie stood beside him.

"Aren't you cold out here, Mr. Wolfwood?"

Her voice broke into his thoughts like headlights piercing fog. Wolf dropped the cigarette stub and crushed it with his toe. "You know you can call me just plain Wolf, Millie. Everybody else does."

Millie giggled nervously. "I guess it is pretty silly, huh? Mr. Vash told me you were only nineteen, so that makes me two years older!"

Wolf's face burned up in rage. "What the hell did he tell you that for? I'm gonna kill that son of a—"

"Don't worry, Mr. Wolfwood!" Millie raised her hands to stop him. "I won't tell anyone! Besides, Meryl is little, too! She's only twenty, but I still feel like she's older than me sometimes."

The word _little_ made Wolf want to kick something. It was impossible to stay mad at Millie, though, and eventually he sighed. "That's easy to believe," he muttered.

For a while, the silence took over. Then he saw Millie shiver, and he started to unbutton his coat.

"Oh, please don't," Millie said. "I'll be fine."

Wolf held it out for her anyway. "I don't need it. I'm roasting out here," he lied.

They both shared a laugh at this. Millie put her arms through the sleeves and burrowed her hands in the deep pockets. She smiled. "Thank you."

A few cars drove down the street, red taillights trailing out of sight. Wolf chewed on his lip, then spoke. "Can I ask you something? About…you and Meryl."

"Oh." Millie tensed a little, defensively. "Sure, I guess."

"When did you know you had feelings for her?" Wolf asked the question without looking away from the street.

Millie relaxed, as if she'd been expecting him to say something rude. "A few years ago," she answered. "Meryl and I met in high school. We were best friends. It all happened really naturally, I suppose."

"She felt the same?"

"Yeah. Well, I think she did. At the beginning, we just talked a lot. She came over to my house almost every day. She was part of the family. Then one day we kissed and everything changed." The breeze whipped a strand of hair over her face, and she reached up to push it behind her ear. "My mom doesn't talk to me very much these days. A lot of people in my family don't. I still go home for holidays and summer vacation, but things are different from how they used to be."

Wolf remembered her nightly emails, the hours she spent typing letters. How often did she get a reply? "I don't understand how you can forgive them so easily," Wolf said.

Millie folded her arms. "I don't know if I have, to be honest. But they're still my family. I'll always love them." Her smile resurfaced. "And not everyone is silly about it. Plenty of my brothers and sisters are friends with Meryl. And you and Mr. Vash have been nice to us."

Wolf looked down at his shoes. "Not as nice as you've been to us."

He said it so quietly that he wasn't sure she heard. But then he felt her arms around him, and he knew that she did.

"You and Meryl…you're both so strong." Wolf found himself craning his neck to look into Millie's eyes. "I've wanted to tell you that since the day we met."

Millie's smile was radiant. Normally, the embarrassment would have made her laugh, but this time, her confidence shone through.

"I'm glad you did," she said.

* * *

On the drive home from the party that night, in the warm darkness of the backseat, Vash leaned over and kissed Wolf on the lips. It was the sort of kiss that didn't stop, long and slow and deep, then deeper. They were still holding onto each other when they got out of the car, when they said goodnight to Meryl and Millie, when they climbed the stairs, stumbling and laughing, and fumbled with the key to their room. And all Wolf could think as Vash put his hands inside his shirt and crumbled him to his knees was _Finally. Finally._

The touch on his back made him shiver. He'd never felt anyone's hands like that, mapping out his skin, pulling him close. Vash pressed his mouth against Wolf's neck and into the hollow above his collarbone. His hair smelled like sunlight and warm grass. Wolf touched the back of his neck, shyly at first, then combed his fingers upward, his thumb brushing Vash's earring and eliciting a soft moan. The sound made Wolf's pulse quicken, as though it were a sound he'd never realized he needed to hear.

Vash had started to unbutton Wolf's shirt. Before he could finish, Wolf pulled the shirt over his head and felt the cold air strike his skin, soon replaced by the heat of Vash's breath. He unzipped the jacket Vash was wearing and reached for the hem of his shirt, but Vash flinched. Wolf paused, asking the question with his eyes. Then, receiving a halting nod in reply, he lifted the shirt off, carefully rolling the left sleeve away from Vash's arm.

The scars hurt to look at, but Wolf didn't turn away. Instead he laid his hand on Vash's forearm, barely touching the raised, rough scabs, and kissed him on the shoulder. Wolf wasn't sure if he'd ever be admitted into this dark part of Vash's life, ever be allowed to help him heal. And he realized for the first time in years that he was praying for something. Pleading with a God he wasn't positive he believed in. Maybe nothing had seemed important enough to ask for, until now.

He slid both arms around Vash, and without having to think about it, they found their way onto the bed. Vash's face felt hot, the effects of the whiskey not yet worn off, and he traced his fingertips sleepily over Wolf's skin, occasionally sinking lower to Wolf's back pocket or around his belt buckle, until Wolf couldn't bear to be still. He undid the button of Vash's jeans, and he could feel the urge to press closer as Vash leaned against him, opened his mouth on Wolf's chest, down his ribcage, over his stomach. Then Wolf reached for his face and felt the tears under his eyes.

"Vash?" Wolf tried to lift his chin, but Vash clenched his jaw and ducked his head. "What's wrong?" Wolf asked.

"Nothing."

Wolf knew it was a lie. But Vash looked as if he might shatter if Wolf pushed him too hard. So he held Vash's hands and said, "Do you want to do this right now?"

A long silence, then Vash shook his head. "I thought I did. But I guess...I need to think about it some more."

Wolf couldn't help feeling a twinge of regret. Vash was right, though. This wasn't something he wanted to rush into. And he was glad that Vash had told the truth.

"I'm sorry," Vash said.

"No. Don't ever be sorry about that. I could use some time, too."

He searched for their clothes, but Vash grabbed his arm. "I didn't mean you had to leave. I mean...can we stay like this, tonight?"

Wolf gazed down at his soft blue eyes. At times like this, he had a hard time believing that Vash was as old as he said he was.

"Okay," Wolf said at last, crossing the room to turn out the light and returning to the bed. "But we're going to freeze if we don't get under the covers."

He pulled the blankets back to let Vash in beside him. Vash smiled, curling his arm around Wolf's waist, and within moments his eyes were closed and his heartbeat was slow and steady. Wolf lay awake, unused to the warmth of his body, unused to the thirst for something more. _Calm down already,_ he told himself. _This is heaven enough._

So he took advantage of that sleepless night to memorize important things: the weight of Vash's head on his chest, the rhythm of his breathing, the smell and temperature of his skin. And though Wolf was falling behind in all his classes, with the semester hardly begun, he felt that he'd learned more in the past few days than thirteen years of school had ever taught him.

* * *

In the cold dead dark of morning before the sun awakened, Wolf was restless and itching for a cigarette. His eyes had long since adjusted to the shadows of the room, and he could see Vash slumbering away beside him, the contours of his face rimmed in starlight, eyelashes twitching with sightless movement. Wolf touched his lips to the freckle beneath Vash's eye. Then he eased himself out of the bed and retrieved his pack and lighter from the dresser. He stood at the door for a minute or two, stalling.

_Stupid_, he thought. _There's nothing to be afraid of._

Wolf turned the doorknob and stepped out into the hall. No lights on anywhere. Only a row of closed doors in a windowless passage. He felt his way along the wall, arms stretched ahead of him.

The first wooden step creaked under his foot. He found the handrail and followed it down, blind in the absolute pitch of the stairwell. The blackness swallowed him whole.

Was that a voice?

He stood listening, but all he could hear was the sound of his own rattled breathing. _There's no one here._

Wolf came out of the stairwell into a vast, open room. Wooden pews lined the floor. Balconies above, then the enormous painted windows like bloodstains on the walls. The sickly sweet smell of incense permeated the air. He knew this place. But he shouldn't be here. Not now.

"Hello?" Wolf's voice echoed in the empty sanctuary. He took the lighter out of his pocket and flicked the wheel until it caught. The tiny flame cast a pitiful circle of light, revealing nothing but the pew in front of him. Wolf released his thumb and pocketed the lighter again.

Whispers rustled along the walls.

_Okay, screw it. I'm going back to bed. _Wolf turned back to the stairwell, but it wasn't there anymore. The heavy stone walls pinned him in the room, trapped him like an insect in a jar. What the hell was going on?

"Nicholas."

He was certain he'd heard it this time. The whispers were closer now, scuttling along the aisle between the pews. And then, up around the pulpit, Wolf saw a faint blue light.

"_Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but underneath are ravenous wolves_..."

That voice. It was unmistakable. Wolf couldn't peel his eyes away from the light as it took the shape of a man in a robe, a white collar...

"Father Chapel," Wolf choked, but it wasn't, not entirely. Just the upper half of a torso, one arm hanging limp, the legs blown off—how could he stand?—the body suspended there above the podium, black blood dripping down...and his face. There was hardly anything left of it.

_This is a dream. _Wolf sealed his eyes shut. _A really goddamn scary dream, and I'm going to wake up right now. _But he knew that he wasn't asleep. That when he opened his eyes, the figure would still be there.

"St—st—damn it, _stay away._" Wolf fought with the words. "What do you want from me? I t—told you I had nothing to d—d—" He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, cursing himself. "If I just tell you it was my f—my f—_fuck, my fault_, will you leave me alone? I can't...I can't..."

The ghost was standing in front of him now. He could smell the blood and rot, but he wasn't afraid. He was exhausted. He was defeated. He was on his knees.

"God," he whispered, "I can't do this anymore. Please...just leave me alone."

His throat was raw. He knew if he started coughing, he wouldn't be able to stop, so he pressed his fist against his heart and winced until the pain let up. Until he raised his head and saw neither a ghost nor a sanctuary, but the empty atrium of Chapel Hall, lifeless and mundane.

Wolf slumped forward, laying his head on the cold tile of the floor. Several minutes passed before he felt well enough to stand up. When he went outside at last, huddling under the safe luminescence of a streetlight, he lit a cigarette only to find that he no longer wanted it. He watched the smoke hang in the air, heavy as incense, and he wondered if he'd ever get a good night's sleep.

* * *

He was on his way back to the room as the sun came up, hoping at least to catch an hour's nap, when he ran into Vash.

"I was wondering where you'd gone," Vash said with a smile. He was wearing a loose shirt and shorts, his hair even messier than usual. "Man, I slept great. That shootout with Meryl really did me in this time."

By the cheerful tone of his voice, Vash seemed oblivious to the sight of Wolf's hollow, sleep-deprived eyes. How drunk had he actually been last night? How much did he remember?

"Anyway," Vash said, "I'm off for a run. Want to come with me? Since you're already up."

Wolf wedged his hands in his pockets. _Might as well give up on sleep for today. _He wasn't exactly keen on being alone in that creepy old building. "Sure," Wolf answered with a shrug. "I could use the exercise."

"Really?" Vash's eyes lit up. "Great!" And he took off sprinting down the sidewalk without another word.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Wolf jogged after him. "I didn't know you meant right this second!"

Vash doubled, then tripled the gap between them. "What's that, Wolf?" he yelled over his shoulder. "You're going to have to speak up!" His awful laughter rang out over the entire campus, and Wolf groaned as he struggled to match his pace.

It wasn't something he liked to admit, but Wolf could be viciously competitive when he felt his pride was at stake. Although he hated running, he hated losing even more. His vision honed in on the back of Vash's neck, and as if he were a predator chasing down his lunch, Wolf bolted across the lawn, close on his heels.

Vash hadn't broken a sweat. He looked over at Wolf and smiled. "Wow, you're pretty fast!"

"Don't—patronize—me—you—" Wolf couldn't get enough air to finish his insult. He was running on fumes, his lungs threatening to burst.

"We should race sometime," Vash mused, loping effortlessly ahead.

"I thought—this was—a race!"

"Oh?" Vash raised his eyebrows. "I guess I'd better run for real, then!" And he dashed forward at a new, impossible pace, leaving Wolf in the dust.

"What—the—_hell!_" Wolf screamed. He veered like an unbalanced bicycle and collapsed in the grass, wheezing. A series of ragged coughs ripped through his chest, shaking his entire frame.

Vash looped around and jogged back to him, gazing down with worried eyes. "You should really stop smoking, Wolf. That sounds horrible."

He offered his hand, but Wolf shoved it away. "Shut your goddamn mouth," he growled hoarsely. "How the hell can you run so fast?"

"I've had a lot of practice. It's no big deal. You shouldn't be embarrassed if you can't keep up."

"I'm not embarrassed," Wolf shot back, his face flaring. "Besides, I gave you a head start. If I hadn't just pulled an all-nighter, you'd be the one on the ground."

Vash steadied Wolf by the elbow as he stood up. "I'm sure you're right. Next time, I'll be sorry."

Wolf suspected he was being humored, but he played along, anyway. "We'll call it even if you buy me coffee."

"Deal! I'm not sharing my doughnuts, though."

They walked toward the library under a cloudy morning sky. Wolf wondered what it was about this guy that made him feel like he was worth something, like he belonged somewhere. He couldn't place his finger on any single quality. It was Vash telling jokes while they waited in line, it was Vash smiling when he caught Wolf's reflection in the library window, it was Vash eating doughnuts and asking about the kids at school, it was Vash hiding under Wolf's jacket as the rain began to fall on their way to the dorm. And now more than any time in his life, Wolf felt like he was home.


	7. Once, She Was Here

**SPOILER ALERT:** **This chapter parallels certain events that ****occur in Volume Seven of Trigun Maximum. If you haven't read those chapters yet (but intend to), please don't ruin it for yourself!** **Proceed at your own risk.**

* * *

_When I remember those days, I picture the three of us. Rem, Nigh, and me. Sitting under the apple tree in the backyard, or reading books in the library, or drawing pictures on the sidewalk. Helping Rem bake cookies at Christmas. Planting flowers with her in the spring. Geraniums, the red ones, were her favorites. "Red is the color of life," she told us. "When I look at this flower, it reminds me to keep on living. Flowers are so small and fragile, yet so determined. If they can survive, then so can I."_

_ I wouldn't understand what she meant until later. Back then, there was no need to worry about things like survival. We had each other, and that was all that mattered._

* * *

"Vash? Are you asleep?"

He turned his head on the pillow to face the twin bed across the room. "Not anymore."

"Sorry." The room was dark, but Vash could just make out Nigh's sheepish smile. "I keep thinking about tomorrow. What do you think Rem is planning?"

"I don't know." Vash stretched his arms over his head. "Last year she took us fishing, but I didn't like that."

"Yeah, I remember. You sure did cry a lot."

"Shut up. You didn't have fun, either."

"Only because _someone_ threw all my worms out of the boat."

Vash closed his eyes, wanting a change of subject. "Maybe she'll bake a cake."

"I hope not. Remember the one she made when we turned seven?" Nigh giggled, then fell silent for a minute. "Do you think Mom and Dad will be there?"

Something twisted in Vash's stomach. "I wouldn't count on it," he said after a pause. "They usually have work."

Nigh's voice was quiet. "I know. But…maybe this time…"

"Hey." Vash sat up in his bed so that Nigh could see him. "We look after each other, right? And Rem looks after us. That's all we need." He lowered himself down again, pulling the blanket up to his chin. "We're actually pretty lucky, when you think about it."

Nigh didn't seem comforted. He tossed and turned a few times, then said, "Do you think Rem's ever going to leave us?"

Another pain inside, this time worse. "One day when we're older, probably," he whispered.

He heard a sniffle from Nigh's side of the room, and his own eyes began to sting. Vash swallowed back the tears. "That won't be for a long time, Nigh."

"And we'll still have each other, right? You're not going to leave me."

"Never," Vash promised. "We're brothers, aren't we? Now, get some sleep."

"Okay." Nigh exhaled shakily, and soon his breathing grew soft and slow. Vash lay awake for a long time. When he finally drifted off, worrying about Rem and about being alone, his sleep was a fitful one.

He dreamed that he was being led by the hand down a long, white hallway. The person who walked before him was a little girl about his age, only slightly taller. Her hair was the same color as his and Nigh's.

"Where are you taking me?" Vash asked.

The girl turned her head. Her eyes were the same color as theirs, too. She said nothing, placing her finger on her lips and gesturing for him to follow.

Vash felt more afraid the further they ventured into the corridor. It reminded him of the place where his parents worked, where they went to visit Dr. Conrad when they were sick. He wanted to go home. He was about to beg the little girl to turn around when a door opened and a tall person stepped out, grabbing the girl's other hand.

"Tesla! What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be in bed."

The woman had slender hands, strong arms, long dark hair. Vash knew that voice anywhere. "Rem!" he cried out, but she didn't seem to notice him.

"Let's get you back to your room," Rem said as she guided the little girl through the door. The girl's hand slipped out of Vash's, and he followed after them. "Wait!"

Rem didn't hear him. She took the young girl, Tesla, to a small room with what looked like an operating table, surrounded by tubes and machinery. Rem lifted the girl onto the table and buckled a strap around her wrist. "You're getting smarter every day," Rem said with a smile. "Pretty soon you'll be running the lab."

She stroked Tesla's hair for a moment, hiding her face. Then she strapped down the girl's other wrist and eased her head toward the pillow. "I'm sorry," Rem said, lifting a syringe from the tool tray and wiping Tesla's arm with a cotton swab. "This will hurt a little."

Vash winced as he watched the needle sink into the vein, but Tesla barely reacted. Rem attached another needle to an IV tube and inserted it into the back of Tesla's hand. She sat beside the girl for a long time after that, and Vash thought he saw a tear slide down Rem's cheek.

The door swung open, and three other adults walked into the room. Vash shuffled out of the way to avoid being trampled.

"There you are, Rem. We've been looking all over." Vash recognized his mother's voice. She was wearing the same white coat that she usually wore to work, but her face looked different somehow. Less tired, more cheerful.

His father was there, too. "How is the subject doing?"

Rem brushed her tears away rapidly. "She's stable. But I think we should hold off on any more testing today."

"Is that your medical opinion, Ms. Saverem?" The third voice belonged to Dr. Conrad. Without the beard, Vash didn't realize it was him until he spoke.

"It's my personal opinion, doctor." Rem cast him a grave look. "I leave the medical side of it up to you."

Dr. Conrad leaned over the operating table, examining Tesla's small body. "I want you to remember," he said to Rem, "what I told you when you first came onboard with this project. We cannot allow our hearts to steer our reason. This is not a child you are looking at, Ms. Saverem, it is a test subject. And it's our greatest success so far."

Vash's mother smiled at Rem. "We all love Tesla," she said. "You don't have to worry about that."

"What we're doing will benefit humanity for years to come," Vash's father said. "Tesla is the key to our future."

Rem nodded hesitantly. She stepped aside as Dr. Conrad checked Tesla's pulse, and Vash's parents took readings from a set of monitors. "Resting heart rate, one-thirty. Demonstrates the usual tachycardia." The doctor shined a light in Tesla's eyes, prodded her mouth open with a tongue depressor. "Subject reacts to visual and auditory stimuli. Continued treatment with intravenous steroids remains effective."

They attached sensors to her skull, flicked on another screen, made notes on a clipboard. "Brain patterns display accelerated executive functioning, as we've seen in the past. Cognitive activity at rest seems abnormally high." More sensors, more needles, more tubes shuttling fluids into the girl's tiny frame. "Beginning second round of hormone injections," the doctor said, and then a piercing electronic shriek came from one of the machines.

"What's wrong?" Rem flew to the doctor's side. "Tesla!"

The girl's body was convulsing, raging against the straps holding her down. Rem reached for her hand, but Dr. Conrad shoved her away. "Administer oxygen and glucose. Keep your head on your shoulders, Rem."

Rem's hands shook as she attached the oxygen mask to Tesla's face. Foam spurted from the girl's mouth and dribbled down her chin. Vash huddled in the corner of the room, his eyes wide with fear.

"Heart rate one-forty-five," his mother called from the monitor.

Tesla shook uncontrollably. One of the needles pulled loose and blood sprayed out of the tube. Red, the color of life. The color of Rem's flowers. "Hold her down!" the doctor shouted, tearing open a sterilized bag and filling a syringe.

"She's burning up," Rem cried.

"Heart rate one-sixty and rising!"

Dr. Conrad plunged the syringe into Tesla's thigh. Vash's father struggled to hold the girl still, but even with the three of them pinning her to the table, they couldn't stop her from shaking. Vash covered his ears and shut his eyes, whimpering. _Make it stop. Rem, please…_

He heard the long, flat beep from the machine, heard the table stop rattling, heard the panicked voices of the adults as they did everything they could to save her. But he knew all too well what was happening. For some reason, it felt like his own memory was being replayed in front of him. Yet he'd never seen the girl before in his entire life. What was going on?

When Vash finally dared to open his eyes, Tesla was no longer moving. The machines had been switched off, and the room was still and quiet. Rem was the first to speak.

"She's gone."

Dr. Conrad cleared his throat. "Time of death, eight-fifty-three A.M…"

"She's _dead_ and we _killed her._"

"Due to unknown circumstances, possibly shock induced by ongoing tests…"

"This didn't have to happen. She was a _child,_ doctor. A human child."

"Rem." Vash's father stepped in, placing his hand on Rem's shoulder. "We know how close you were to Tesla. It isn't over, though. There is still much that we can learn—"

"I've learned enough." Rem wrenched away from him. "I've learned never to let this happen again. It was wrong from the start."

"I agree with Rem," Vash's mother said. "Our methods have been…dishonorable. Tesla's sacrifice is proof of that. But we cannot let her sacrifice be in vain. We must strive toward a better future…for her sake…"

They traded solemn glances through tear-filled eyes. Then the doctor said, "We will preserve the body for further study. We will seek to understand our failures, so that we may again succeed. And one day, when the time is right, we will make another." He paused. "If Ms. Saverem wishes to depart our company, she may do so now. No questions asked."

Vash's mother and father joined hands with Dr. Conrad. After a long silence, Rem's hands completed the circle.

The three of them looked down at the lifeless body on the table, and everything faded to black.

* * *

Vash woke up crying. He heard strained, muffled sobs coming from the other side of the room, and he turned to see Nigh staring up at the ceiling, trembling.

"Did you have the same dream?" Vash asked.

Nigh didn't say a word, but the answer was clear on his face.

"That girl…Tesla…" Vash felt the tears crawling down his cheeks, soaking his pillow. "She was our _sister_, wasn't she?"

Nigh's sobs grew louder. Vash dug his fingers into the blankets. "Why…Rem, why did she…"

And then he screamed. He couldn't hear the noise he was making, but he could feel it, as though someone were tearing the sound from his throat. He kept seeing Tesla's face, seeing the blood, the needles. He kept seeing Dr. Conrad and Rem and his Mom and Dad prying that little girl apart until there was nothing left of her, the life gone out of her eyes, a test subject, an experiment…

"Vash!" The bedroom door burst open and Rem flipped the light switch. "What happened? What's wrong?"

She came toward him with her arms outstretched. Vash kicked her hard in the ribs and scrambled out of bed, backing into a corner. Rem doubled over, the wind knocked out of her.

"Get out of here!" Vash yelled. "Leave us alone!"

Rem pressed her hand to her stomach, struggling to breathe. "It's okay, Vash," she managed to gasp. "You just had a nightmare."

"_Stop lying to me!_" Vash picked up a lamp from the nightstand and hurled it at her. Rem had no time to dodge, the bulb shattering as the lamp stand struck her shoulder. Bits of glass clung to her hair, and tiny drops of blood appeared on her face. "How long were you going to keep it a secret?" Vash demanded. "_How long, Rem?"_

The fear registered in Rem's eyes. "You…how did you…"

"She showed us," Vash said. "Tesla showed us what you did to her. What all of you did."

He was crying again. Rem dropped to her knees, the usual strength in her voice replaced with raw horror, tremulous defeat. "I'm so sorry, Vash. Nigh. I don't understand how... I wanted to tell you both. I was going to tell you."

"Why should I believe anything you say? If you're sorry, then why didn't you save Tesla?"

"Stop it." Rem's face went stone cold. "Not another word. You have no idea what I went through to protect that girl. The things that I gave up. My morals, my principles, they were just like yours, Vash. And for what? In the end, all I could do was watch as she died." Rem ran a shaky hand over her scalp, closing her eyes tightly. "There's not a day that goes by that I don't blame myself for what happened. But I have to tell myself that I did everything in my power to watch over her. Just as I watch over the two of you."

Vash couldn't stand to look at her. He felt disgusted, betrayed. He _hated_ her. And yet…

"What…what _are_ we, Rem? Why did they say Tesla wasn't human?"

Rem folded her hands between her knees, choosing her words with care. "You and Nigh are one of a kind, Vash. So was Tesla. You're children—" She cast her gaze from Vash to Nigh. "_Human_ children, with human hearts and minds. But you were made in a special way. Your DNA, your genes, your cell structure—everything that makes you _you_—were created synthetically. Before Tesla came along, scientists had only done this on a small scale. They knew they could create functioning organs, parts of people...but never a living, breathing person. Tesla was the very first. Then came you and Nigh—twins. They said it was a miracle."

She smiled, but her eyes were sad. Vash tried to put the pieces together in his head, to no avail. "I don't understand."

Rem inched closer to him. "Do you remember the sign on your parents' office door? 'Project Seeds?'"

Vash nodded once.

"I heard about that project when I was in college, about fifteen years ago. I'd just lost someone close to me, and I was thinking about dropping out. Then I read an article about a new independent research group, how they'd just discovered a way to create entirely artificial forms of life. They called it Project Seeds. The press hadn't released any information beyond this, but I was desperate to know more. For the first time in a long time, I was passionate about something. I wanted to be a part of it. So I tracked down Dr. Conrad, and I told him everything that was in my heart. How I'd studied synthetic biology in hopes of making this very same breakthrough. How excited I was when I'd read the release, so much that it gave me a new purpose to live, so much that I travelled across the country to seek them out. I guess I made a good impression, because the doctor told your parents about me. They hired me as an intern, and a few months later they welcomed me onto the project team.

"When I met Tesla, she was already about your age. On the surface, she looked like a healthy young girl, but I soon noticed that she was very weak. The scientists kept her confined to a room in the lab at all times, and they performed tests on her almost daily. I asked Dr. Conrad how long this had been going on, and he seemed surprised. Tesla had been a test subject since the day she was created. They wanted me to see her as just that: an experiment. She had lived her entire life under surveillance, how could she know any different? That's what I tried to tell myself. But the more I saw, the more disturbed I felt."

She gave Vash and Nigh a pleading look. "I don't think your parents are bad people. Everything they did, they were convinced it was for the good of humankind. They said they loved her..." Rem brushed at her eyes. "They wanted her to be the very best. They spoke about her as if she were a god. Tesla was highly intelligent, more than any child I'd ever met. But her body was wasting away in that lab. Your parents––her parents––they'd engineered her brain to function so well, without giving her body a chance to catch up. I didn't know what to think. Part of me had thought so highly of them, while part of me wanted to turn and run. But Tesla...she was so trusting. I had become too fond of her to leave, yet I hated to stand by and watch her die. No one listened to my arguments to halt the experiments. My words were nothing compared to theirs. And I guess you know what happened after that."

Rem shut her eyes for a long time, then opened them slowly. "Maybe I should have left. I wonder what would have happened if I'd reported them to someone I trusted, if anyone would have stopped them. I knew they were going try again. They were going to make another child. I stayed because I wanted to protect that child from the injustice that Tesla had gone through. Dr. Conrad was on my side this time, and we implemented new changes. A home for the child to grow up in. A family to look after them. Minimal testing with non-invasive procedures. And when the two of you came along..." Her face broke into another sad smile. "I knew that I'd made the right choice. I promised I would care for you both as long as I lived."

Vash felt as if a vacuum had opened up inside him and swallowed everything whole. He watched Rem, expecting to feel something like anger or hatred or despair, but all he felt was the nothingness.

"Mom and Dad," he said. "They're not even our real parents, are they? We don't have real parents."

Rem edged forward another few inches. She was almost close enough to reach out and touch him. "They were the ones who created you. And they raised you as parents would. We all did."

Vash pulled his knees up to his chin, flinching away from her. "You lied to us."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to protect you. I didn't want you to feel the same pain I felt when..."

"Stop. Go away." Vash tucked his head under his arms. "_Leave. Us. Alone._"

"Vash..."

The feelings came flooding in with renewed intensity, and Vash leapt to his feet. "I hate you, Rem! _I hate you! I hate you!_"

Rem blinked, startled, but she regained her composure quickly. "Yes," she said in a quiet voice. "I know."

She reached down and swept the broken glass into the palm of her hand, placed the lamp on the nightstand, and paused a moment at Nigh's bedside before going to the door. Nigh hadn't moved or spoken a word since he'd awakened. Rem looked like she wanted to tuck him in or kiss him goodnight, the things she usually did when they couldn't sleep, but she turned to leave instead. "I'll let you get some rest," she said. "Tomorrow we can talk some more."

Vash never wanted to speak to her again. He ignored her goodbyes, staring at the pictures on the opposite wall. Photographs of the twins with the parents who weren't their parents. Pictures Rem had drawn with them. When her footsteps had faded down the stairs, Vash took the pictures out of their frames and ripped them to shreds. He collapsed on the floor next to Nigh's bed and pressed his face into the mattress.

"You're the only family I have," Vash whispered, tears soaking the cloth around his cheeks.

If it wasn't for Nigh, he would have broken the glass from the frame and cut himself open, tied a bedsheet around his neck, jumped out the window headfirst. Ended the life that should never have been formed. But he couldn't leave his brother alone in that place, with those people. So he watched over him all night. He locked the door to their room. And when he finally did let Rem inside again, two days later, he stood in front of Nigh like a bodyguard. He half listened to Rem as she talked about her past, her family, the people she loved. He made sure Nigh ate the food that she brought them, though he refused it for himself. He was planning to leave. He was planning to get both of them out, for good. Somewhere away from people, away from evil. Somewhere Nigh would be safe.

He didn't know that Nigh had plans of his own.

* * *

The house was on fire.

Vash blinked his eyes. He was alone in the room, in the dark. The smell of smoke hung in the air. An orange glow lit the doorframe.

"Nigh?" Vash called, clambering down from the bed. "Where are you?"

He heard a knocking sound to his right, and turned to see Nigh perched on the windowsill, his finger pressed to his lips.

"You'll fall!" Vash cried. But when he came closer, he saw that Nigh had taken hold of a tree branch outside the window.

Vash glanced over his shoulder at the growing haze of smoke, the muffled roar of flames curling around the doorframe. Nigh was right. There was only one way out.

He held onto Nigh's arm to steady him as his brother climbed into the tree, then Vash followed after him. They made their way down the trunk, branch by branch. Vash didn't realize how hot it had been inside the house until he landed in the cool wet grass of the lawn. He stepped back a few paces and looked up at the place that was once their home, the fire encroaching up the walls and bursting from the windows.

Nigh grabbed his sleeve and pulled him toward the woods.

"Wait!" Vash shouted. "We need to find Rem! We need to call for help!"

He lunged against his brother's grip, but Nigh clamped down on his arm and pushed him further away from the house, away from the street, into the darkness.

"Nigh, what are you doing?" Vash yelled.

"What do you think?" Nigh answered through gritted teeth. He hadn't spoken in weeks, and his voice was raw, unfamiliar. Frightening. Then Vash saw the heavy backpack on Nigh's shoulders, and it dawned on him. This was their chance, wasn't it? This was their escape. But...

"We have to go back, Nigh! This isn't right!"

Nigh tilted his head. "I thought you wanted to leave."

"I do-I did. But not like this. They could be hurt—"

"Who? 'Mom' and 'Dad?' Why should we care what happens to them?" Nigh's face twisted up the way it did when he was about to cry. "They're murderers, Vash! They killed our sister!"

"Rem says—"

"Rem is just as bad as they are! You saw her in the dream, didn't you? How long do you think it would take for her to tell them what we know? How long before they killed us, too?"

"She wouldn't let that happen," Vash argued, and though he'd doubted her promise before, he found that he truly did believe it.

Nigh shook his head and dragged Vash behind him, to the edge of the woods. "We don't have time for this. We need to get moving."

"Vash?" A faint voice echoed over the lawn. "Nigh?"

The grip on Vash's arm loosened, and Vash broke free. "Rem!" he screamed. "Over here!"

Nigh leaped on his back and threw him to the ground. The impact shattered through Vash, his face striking the earth and the taste of blood filling his mouth. He struggled to lift his head. In the distance, between splotches of darkness that threatened to overtake his vision, he saw Rem run into the house, shielding her face with her arm and calling their names.

"_Rem!_" Vash cried with all the breath he had left. "_No! Come back!_"

His screams were muted by Nigh's hand smothering his mouth. Vash wrenched around onto his side, thrashing wildly. He got in one good kick, and crawled away as Nigh staggered backward. "_REM! REM! RE—_"

One last hit from Nigh's elbow in the back of his neck, and Vash fell unconscious.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining. He was in a quiet forest, green leaves whispering in the faint breeze. Nigh sat watching him from atop a fallen trunk.

"How are you feeling?" Nigh asked.

At first, Vash couldn't remember what had happened. He thought maybe they were on a camping trip with Rem. Then he sat up, and the pain pulsed in the back of his head, and he remembered Nigh pushing him down and the fire and the broken lamp and the little girl lying on the operating table, and he knew. He knew.

Ignoring Nigh's first question, he asked, "Where are we?"

"I don't know." Nigh cast his eyes around the trees. "As far as I could get with the pack and you on my back."

Vash glanced over at the heavy backpack that Nigh had taken from the house. Some of its contents were spread out on the ground. Cans of food, a pocketknife, bottles of water. And lying on the fallen tree trunk next to Nigh, a black handgun.

"Nigh," Vash began, his voice strained in shock. "What is that?"

A wry smile from his brother. "Come on, Vash. Don't you remember when we snuck into 'Mom' and 'Dad's' room, that day when they weren't home? Remember what we found?"

"You shouldn't have touched it, Nigh! That's dangerous!"

Nigh laughed humorlessly. "Of course it's dangerous, that's the point. How do you think two kids are going to protect themselves without a weapon? I swear, you're starting to sound like Rem."

At the mention of Rem's name, Vash flew into a fury. He grabbed Nigh's shoulders and forced him to the ground, reaching a fist back to hit him. "You_ bastard_! You ruined everything!" He punched Nigh in the face, so hard that his fist hurt. "I was going to get us out of there! We shouldn't have left everyone to die! And now Rem-she never got out, did she? Tell me what happened to her!"

Nigh sniffed, blood leaking from his nose. "Relax, idiot. No one's going to find out we did it. I planned everything from the start."

The truth washed over Vash like a wave knocking him off his feet. He could hardly breathe. "You...started that fire. Nigh. Didn't you."

Only a calm stare in return. Not a trace of denial. Vash could hear the raging sound coming out of his own throat, hear the heartbeat pounding in his head, but he felt faraway, as if he were watching someone else beat his brother to a pulp, listening to someone else's screams of _You killed her! You're a murderer! _and seeing someone else grab the gun and point it at Nigh's head, ready to pull the trigger.

"You hypocrite," Nigh said with disgust, his eyes swollen and watery. "All your talk about saving people, and this is what it comes down to?" His bloody lips cracked a smile. "Go ahead and shoot if you want. I wouldn't blame you. One murder deserves another, right?"

The barrel of the gun wavered in Vash's shaking hands. His throat was so tight that he thought it might close up completely. Then his eyes blurred and he broke down in painful sobs. His arms went limp, and Nigh gently pried the gun out of his hand and set it aside.

"You said we'd always look after each other," Nigh reminded him. "As long as we have each other, that's all that matters."

Vash leaned against Nigh's shoulder as they both rose to their feet. Nigh was right, he was a hypocrite. He had been prepared to kill his own brother because his brother killed Rem. And all because of what happened to Tesla. Where would it end? When would justice be served? Would any of them be left, at the finish?

He watched Nigh with a mixture of care and suspicion, loyalty and distrust. For the first time in his life, Vash felt a rift between them, a difference of nature so strong that it seemed capable of tearing them apart. But from that day on, they would have to rely on each other to survive. So Vash followed Nigh deeper into the world they'd never known, a vast and frightening wilderness of shadows and traps, and people.

* * *

They managed to ration out the food for several weeks. Finding water was a greater challenge, because they rarely ventured into the populous towns and cities that marked the steps of their journey. But as weeks gave way to months, as their pack ran out and the nights grew colder, they became more and more desperate. And thus, more careless.

Vash had been insisting that they move closer to the streets of the nearby town. It was warmer there, and there were people in the houses who might give them food. Nigh refused to listen, until one night he awoke to find the pack missing and Vash heading down the hill, toward the streetlights.

"What are you doing?" Nigh demanded, running to catch up.

"I'm going to have a look around. If you're afraid, then you can stay here."

Nigh opened his mouth to protest, but Vash's determination had passed the point of dispute. He crept after his brother reluctantly, nerves on edge, as they descended into the town.

The street was all but empty at this hour. Businesses had closed for the day, and Vash and Nigh had some success raiding the dumpsters behind restaurants and convenience stores. An outdoor park had running water fountains, and one of the public restrooms had been left unlocked. They took advantage of the sinks and paper towels to wash off the grime that had been accumulating for weeks, the warm water an unexpected luxury on their skin.

"See?" Vash said with a smile. "I told you this was a good idea."

Nigh shook his wet hair so the water sprayed Vash's face, and laughed.

Vash was pulling his shirt back on when he heard the low rumble of a car engine, just outside the door. He looked over to see Nigh frozen in fear, his hair still dripping.

"It's all right," Vash assured him. "Probably someone came to lock up. We'll say we're sorry and leave, no big deal."

He reached for the pack, and the door swung open. A tall man strode inside, his pants already unzipped, and reeled to a stop when he noticed the two small boys staring up at him. His unshaven face molded into an ugly smile. "Well, what do we have here? Kinda late for you kids to be out all alone, ain't it?"

"We're not alone," Nigh replied instantly. "Our parents are waiting for us outside."

The man took a step toward him, looming over Nigh like a vulture. "That sure is a relief. Wouldn't want their little honor students getting into any trouble." He turned to Vash. "But I didn't see nobody outside. How about you two wait in my car until they come and pick you up?"

Vash wrinkled his nose. The man's breath reeked worse than his did. "I don't think so," he said. "We're going to leave, now."

Nigh started to sneak out behind him, but the man reached around and grabbed him by the arm. Vash saw Nigh grimace in pain, and cold fear surged through him.

"That doesn't sound like such a great idea to me," the man said. "Couple of little boys running around on their own, nobody to look after 'em. I've got a better idea. You both come home with me, and I'll give you something to eat. Look like you haven't had nothing to eat in a while, right? Now, tell me the truth."

Vash chanced a look in the man's eyes. For a moment, he seemed so sincere that Vash wondered if he'd misjudged him. But when the man reached out for him, Vash stepped back. With a reflex so quick it surprised him, Vash slid his hand into the pack and took out the gun, aiming it at the man's chest.

The man burst out laughing. "Where the hell'd you get that, son? Give it here before you hurt yourself."

Vash removed the safety and pulled back the slide, rehearsing what Nigh had shown him. _I'm not going to shoot him. I'm going to scare him away._

The man's expression grew concerned as the slide clicked into place, the chamber loaded, and Vash stared down the sight with both hands steadying his aim. "Hey now, I'm serious," the man said. "Hand it over, kid."

"Shoot him, Vash!" Nigh screamed, elbowing the man's shoulder and trying to break free. The man grabbed him and locked him in both arms, shielding himself with Nigh's body.

Vash raised the sight to the man's eyes. "Let him go. Let us leave."

"Kid. Vash, that's your name?" The man swallowed, his grip on Nigh tightening. "Look, I don't want you to get hurt. Put that gun on the floor, okay? It's dangerous."

"Don't listen to him!" Nigh yelled, fighting as the man tried to stifle his screams. "Just pull the trigger! He wants to hurt us!"

A sick feeling rose in Vash's throat. "I don't want to kill him, Nigh. We don't know who he is."

The man's eyes widened, and he nodded furiously. "Th—that's right!" he stammered in Nigh's ear. "Listen to your brother!"

"No!" Nigh thrashed in the man's arms. "Shoot already, Vash! It doesn't matter if it hits me, just fire the gun and get out of here!"

Then Nigh bit down on the man's hand and wriggled under his arm, slipping and falling on the hard tile. The man let out a yelp, flailing his arm at Vash, reaching for the gun and missing, his hand closing on Vash's right arm instead. He yanked Vash's wrist down, and with a startled cry, Vash squeezed the trigger with his left hand.

A flash of light, a deafening explosion, and Vash fell backward in a hot red spray of blood. The recoil kicked his elbow back so hard that the gun flew out of his hand. The man hovered on his knees, spasming and choking on the blood that gushed from his neck with a horrible sound that Vash felt rather than heard. The body jerked forward and landed on Vash, crushing his legs.

Vash lay shuddering on the floor, eyes unblinking. The ringing in his ears was slowly replaced by Nigh's voice. "Can you hear me, Vash? Are you okay?"

His arm hurt. His legs hurt. There was blood on the ceiling. How?

"We have to go." Nigh's arms were hooked under his shoulders, dragging him out from underneath the dead man. A thick red pool oozed along the tile, smeared by Vash's shoes.

He began to cry. And then he began to scream.

Nigh dropped to his knees beside Vash and hugged him, pressing Vash's face into his sleeve. Vash was inconsolable, his cries barely muffled by Nigh's embrace. "Stop it!" Nigh begged. "Come on, Vash, we can't do this. Get on your feet and let's go."

Vash shoved him away. He'd spotted the gun on the floor, and he crawled after it, still loaded, he could still do it, fumbling with the slide and pointing it into his mouth, both thumbs on the trigger—

"_Vash!_" Nigh tore the gun from his hands and pinned him down, the weapon skittering across the floor. "No. No no no no no…"

"I killed him," Vash whimpered, "I didn't want—I didn't want to—"

"You had no choice. You did the right thing."

"Let me go!" Vash tried to hurl himself toward the gun again, but Nigh held him back.

"Please," Nigh said. "Listen to me. I can't let you go. I need you here. You saved my life, don't you realize that? You saved both of us. Now, we're going to get up and run far away, but I need you to be quiet and do what I ask. You won't even have to look. Okay? Just close your eyes."

Vash stared at Nigh's calm face, then obeyed. A minute or two passed, and his shallow breathing deepened slightly, his fists unclenched. Nigh helped him stand up and told him to wait. Vash listened as Nigh unloaded the gun, took something out of the pack, ran the faucet, closed up the pack again. He remembered a trick Rem had taught him once, and began counting down from one hundred, pausing for a breath between each number. He continued to count as Nigh led him out the door and into the cold night air, _Eighty-five, eighty-four,_ the car's engine still running, waiting while Nigh opened the door, cut the ignition, closed the door, _Seventy-two, seventy-one,_ Nigh holding his hand as they tiptoed through the grass of the park, then pavement, then grass again, _Forty, thirty-nine,_ and now they were running up a hill, the familiar crunch of twigs and dead leaves underfoot, all the way into the deep woods, _Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight,_ until they were both out of breath and the forest surrounded them on all sides and the smell of the city was gone, _Zero,_ and Vash opened his eyes.

Nigh was bent over with both hands on his knees, exhausted and gasping for air, but he still managed a slight smile when he saw Vash's face. "I'm proud of you," he said.

They only rested a few minutes before moving on again. When they were miles away, the sky lit by a timid gray dawn, Vash washed the man's blood from his face with his ruined shirt and burned the clothes in their campfire, wearing the only spare rags they had left. Nigh had fallen asleep by the warm embers, and Vash sat staring at the wispy smoke until an hour passed and he knew they needed to keep moving.

That's when he looked down and realized he'd been scratching his left wrist with his fingernails, so hard that it bled.

* * *

Vash blinked his eyes. They felt dry, his eyelids heavy. The screensaver on his laptop whirled in and out of focus, lazy blobs of color on a black background. His earphones were in, but no music was playing.

He noticed Wolf standing beside him, watching his face expectantly. Vash took the earphones out. "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

"I said you've been staring at that screensaver for over an hour."

Vash looked back at the screen. He didn't remember when he'd sat down at the desk, or what he'd been doing.

"Are you feeling okay?" Wolf asked, leaning closer.

He wanted to let Wolf hug him, but the smell of smoke on his clothes made Vash pull away. Wolf's reaction was crushing. Vash tried desperately to smile, to shrug it off, his heart devastated. "Don't worry about me. Just a little spaced out, that's all."

A disbelieving pause. "If you say so," Wolf muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to leave.

Vash listened to the door shut, the footsteps disappearing down the hall, half hoping that Wolf would change his mind and come back. The sound faded completely. Silence devoured the room. A familiar hollow sting dulled Vash's senses, weighed down his chest.

He pushed up his left sleeve and picked the bandage apart.


	8. Fragile

_The God I used to believe in was a distant one, so far away that I couldn't even picture what he looked like. From the very first day I was taken to Mass, I knew I didn't belong in the clean, holy sanctuary any more than my despicable father did. But I wanted to belong. I wanted God to hear me. So I knelt when they told me to kneel, repeated the phrases they told me to repeat. And hoped that God would answer my prayers._

_ I wish that he had, because maybe then I'd have some proof. I'd know what to believe. These days, I can't make sense of anything, and that's what scares me the most._

* * *

Wolf hadn't realized how fast the semester was slipping away until he noticed the calendar hanging in his advisor's office. Already two days into November. With dwindling grades in all his classes, and midterms on the horizon, Wolf had been too busy to recognize the change of season. When had the last leaves fallen? When had the winter snuck in?

Over the past several weeks, Wolf had spent most of his time trying to keep Vash from hurting himself. He didn't like to leave Vash alone for very long, and as a result he ran late to work and missed class on a regular basis. His advisor had called him in for a meeting about his future, which he'd been dreading all afternoon.

"Sorry about the wait," Professor Midvalley apologized as he shuffled into his office, balancing a steaming mug of coffee atop a precarious-looking stack of books and file folders. He closed the door with his foot and lowered the stack onto his desk, talking the whole time. "Just got this shipment of textbooks in, can you believe it? They're like, ten weeks late. You make one easy request around here, and that's what happens." He flopped down in the desk chair and loosened his tie, taking a loud sip of coffee. "Okay, what did I call you in here for?"

"You wanted to discuss my future."

"Oh, yeah. Hang on a minute, let me dig up your file."

Midvalley was one of the adjunct professors in the School of Philosophy, a fairly young man who attempted to fit in with the students more than the faculty. Wolf had heard rumors that he played the saxophone in a bad Kenny G tribute band on the weekends. Various musical instruments lay scattered around his unkempt office, and a lava lamp burbled in the corner. Wolf wondered how long this meeting was going to take.

"So, Wolf. You've been missing a lot of classes. Want to tell me why? Don't worry, I won't judge. I did my fair share of time in the frat house, too. 'Bro.'"

He said it with finger quotes. Wolf tried not to wince. "Um, it's nothing like that. There's a lot going on at work, and...I guess it's just hard to keep up."

"Man, I know the feeling. But you know, if your job's getting in the way of your studies, both of them are going to suffer. Amelia says you've been late almost every day. Maybe it's time to think about dropping something."

Wolf bit his lip, wedging his hands under his knees. What business did this guy have talking to Amelia about his work performance, telling him what to do? "I'm already taking the minimum class load," Wolf said. "And I can't afford to stay in school without my job."

Midvalley leaned back in the chair with his feet on the desk. "What about your weekends? You don't have to finish practicum until your senior year. Why don't you put that off for a while?"

"No," Wolf replied, a little too harshly, his temper cut short by anxiety and lack of sleep. "I can't. I've been mentoring Shepherd for over a year. Nobody else wants to work with him."

"I see." Midvalley tented his hands and looked up at the ceiling. "The thing is, Wolf, some of the people over at the church are feeling a little—uncomfortable? About you. Now, I'm the one who wrote your recommendation letter so you could volunteer there, which means I've got to take the fall for your actions. And I'm not saying you've done anything wrong, but there's been talk about a certain friend of yours, that guy who follows you around everywhere, you know the one I'm talking about?"

Wolf narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure I like what you're implying."

"Hey," Midvalley said, raising his hands, "I'm not implying anything. Far be it from me to judge a man by his…whatever. I'm just saying, maybe you should think about the kind of example you're setting for all those little kids you hang around with."

At this, Wolf pushed his chair back and stood up. "Is that what you called me in here for? To lecture me about setting an example? Because, I'm sorry, but I think this is a waste of time."

"Look, I'm not doing this for fun, either. Being an academic advisor wasn't exactly my first career choice. But here we both are. It's my job to make sure you stay on track for your degree, and that's all I'm trying to do."

Wolf nodded dismissively. "Fine. I think you've done your job. So, unless you've got something important to say, I'm going to go finish writing a paper."

He left the office before Midvalley could say anything else. There was no way that discussion would have ended well. Besides, the evening was closing in quickly, and he needed about ten more cigarettes before could face whatever awaited him at Chapel Hall.

* * *

Neko the cat was prowling outside the dormitory when Wolf returned from a detour to the convenience store. He shifted the plastic bags in his arms and crouched down to offer his hand. The cat pushed its whiskers against his knuckles, purring.

"Want to come inside?" Wolf asked, taking a can of tuna out of one of the bags as a bribe. "I've got your favorite. And I know someone who could use some cheering up."

He opened the door, and the cat trotted in after him. Millie, on desk duty in the atrium, giggled when she saw them.

"I wish I could get him to follow me around like that!" she said. "He makes you look sweet, Mr. Wolfwood."

Wolf didn't know what to make of this comment. _As if I don't always look sweet, _he thought sarcastically. "Where's Meryl tonight?" he asked, noticing Millie's lonely cup of pudding on the desk. "Don't you two usually eat dinner together?"

"She's in the lecture hall. Meryl never misses an extra credit opportunity." Millie rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Would you like to join me?"

"I wish I could," Wolf sighed. _What excuse this time?_ "Got to study for midterms."

Millie nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. I hope you and Mr. Vash can come hang out with us soon, though. It's been way too long. Meryl keeps saying she needs a better shootout partner—one who doesn't faint after the first two shots." She laughed. "Oh, that reminds me! I have some of Mr. Vash's artwork to give back. He got really good grades." Millie reached under the desk for her backpack, and took out a roll of paper secured with a rubber band. "How is he doing, by the way?"

Wolf tucked the paper under his arm, avoiding Millie's eyes. "Not too bad. I think it's just a bad case of the flu."

"He sure has been sick a lot this year! Tell him we miss him, okay?"

"Of course," Wolf said with a halfhearted smile.

He climbed the stairs with Neko on his heels, and leaned the load of groceries against the wall as he opened the door.

"Vash? Are you awake?"

The lights were turned off, so Wolf flipped the switch. Vash was sitting on the floor next to the space heater, a blanket over his shoulders and the hood of his jacket pulled up. Wolf set the plastic bags beside the desk and started to pry open the tuna can for Neko, who twirled around his ankles with anticipation.

"I brought you a companion," Wolf said, searching for any spark of interest in Vash's posture, in his mostly hidden face. Vash lifted his chin for a moment to watch the cat devour its dinner.

"That cat hates me," Vash mumbled.

Wolf cracked a smile. "Think of it as a bonding experience, then." He began to unpack some of the bags. "Did you eat anything today?"

Vash turned back to the heater. After a minute, he answered, "I don't remember."

"We have granola bars and sandwich stuff. Which would you like?"

No response.

"There's a doughnut in it for you if you eat something else first."

Another long pause. Then, "A sandwich, I guess."

Wolf unwrapped a loaf of bread and took out two slices. "Drink that soda, too," he said, nodding to a can on the floor. Vash picked it up, popping the tab unenthusiastically. Wolf unscrewed the cap on a jar of peanut butter and scooped it out with a plastic knife.

"Want to watch anything? Listen to some music?"

Vash shook his head. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was dirty. Getting longer, too. A bristly beard traced his jawline, more noticeable every day. "You need a haircut," Wolf commented as he handed Vash the sandwich. "And a shave."

He tried to get a look at Vash's left wrist, but the blanket covered it up.

While Vash ate about one sixteenth of his dinner, Wolf showed him the roll of paper Millie had given them. "Got your drawings back. Millie says you did really well."

"I don't want to see it," Vash muttered.

"Can I look?"

A shrug.

Wolf took off the rubber band and unraveled the paper. Timid pencil lines crisscrossed the page, light and shadows. A still life. "This is amazing, Vash."

"It kind of sucks."

"Shut up. You should see me try to draw a stick figure." He studied the objects in the drawing, plants in a vase. "What kind of flowers are those?"

Vash didn't answer. The look on his face made Wolf think he'd done something wrong. He rolled the paper back up and laid it on the desk. Then he got an idea.

Lifting the unsuspecting Neko from the floor, Wolf held the squirming cat over top of Vash. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put this cat on your head."

"Wolf, please."

"My hands are slipping!" Neko meowed angrily, kicking at Vash's ear.

"Stop it. Come on."

"One good reason, Vash!" Wolf threatened, lowering the cat.

"Because," Vash growled, snorting a laugh and trying to hide it, "I'm going to do this!" He jabbed the back of Wolf's knees, then grabbed his ankles out from under him. Wolf toppled over backward, howling as he banged his elbow against the windowsill, and Neko flew into the air. The cat latched onto Vash's jacket, which sent him flailing in a fury. Wolf laughed until Vash sprang at him, freed from Neko's claws, and pinned Wolf's arms down with one hand, reaching the other under his shirt.

"No, wait, I'm sorry! Not that! _I'm sorry!_" Wolf yelped at the cold hand on his stomach, laughing to the point of tears. "_Stop it stop it stop!_"

"Maybe," Vash said, flipping his hand over for good measure, "you should give me one good reason."

Wolf yelled something unintelligible, writhing in painful laughter. When Vash finally let up and Wolf could breathe again, he noticed the grin on Vash's face and felt a wave of relief. For a moment, the life came back to his eyes, color returning to his cheeks. The smile was short-lived, though. Vash's strength seemed to diminish as soon as he realized he had any. He shifted away from Wolf and leaned against the bed, withdrawing into his personal darkness again. Wolf wanted nothing more than to hold him in his arms, but he'd felt Vash flinch at his touch one too many times to risk his pride. There was only so much rejection his heart could handle.

Instead, he stood up and fetched his shaving razor and soap, dropping a towel over Vash's head. "Let's go address that beard situation on your face," Wolf said.

He waited at the door while Vash reluctantly got up and then followed him down the hall, not bothering to remove the towel. A couple of times he bonked his head against the wall, and Wolf had to steer him around by the elbow. "You're the ghost of Chapel Hall," Wolf remarked, amused. "Not very good at walking through walls, though."

Wolf sat Vash down in front of the bathroom mirror and draped the towel around his neck. He saw Vash's eyes fix on the razor, and Wolf slid it into his pocket casually while he ran the faucet and worked the soap into a lather in his hands. He paused with his palms on Vash's face. The scruffy beard hid the hollow parts beneath his cheekbones, thinner than Wolf remembered. He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was.

"Look at that," Wolf said, clearing his throat to break the silence. "For once, you're actually starting to look your age." He took out the razor and ran the blade carefully up the side of Vash's face.

"You don't need to do this," Vash said quietly, his eyes downcast.

"Quit talking. You're gonna make me screw up."

He did a relatively good job until the end, when the blade slipped the wrong way and a small cut opened under Vash's chin. "Damn it," Wolf grumbled, reaching for a tissue. Vash stared at the blood in the mirror before Wolf covered it with the tissue and pressed down with his thumb to stop the bleeding. Then, giving into a sudden weakness, Wolf leaned in and kissed Vash on the corner of his jaw.

"…love you." Wolf only caught the last two syllables, in a mumble so soft that it might have been nothing, but from the way Vash hung onto Wolf's sleeve, not letting go or looking up, Wolf knew that he hadn't mistaken the meaning. He pretended to busy himself with scrubbing the towel over Vash's face, blushing furiously.

"Th—there," Wolf practically shouted. "Good as new."

Vash bent over the sink to rinse off. He dunked his head under the faucet until his hair was soaked, then stared at his reflection in the mirror, blinking water out of his eyes. Wolf smiled a little, the embarrassment wearing off. He ruffled Vash's wet hair so that it stuck straight up. "What do you think, Spiky?"

A faraway look came over Vash, a look that Wolf had begun to dread. It meant that Vash was in another place, somewhere Wolf was forbidden to trespass. But this time, Vash spoke up. "Rem used to do that," he said.

Wolf caught his gaze in the mirror. Vash had never talked openly about Rem before, though he still called her name some nights, in his sleep. Wolf tried to encourage him further. "I'd like to hear more about her."

Vash hunched his shoulders defensively, shaking his head. "There isn't much to say." He smoothed his hair down and dried it with the towel. Wolf could feel Vash slipping away from him again. _Wait,_ he wanted to say. _Come back. Stay with me a little longer._

It had been so long since he'd seen the friend he met on that first day of school. The Vash who smiled at everyone and laughed too loudly and ate too many doughnuts. The Vash who sang eighties songs with Millie and did shootouts with Meryl until he passed out. Then again, Wolf thought, the scars had always been there, hadn't they? The smoke had always bothered him. Maybe the Vash he recognized was just an act, a happy disguise. After countless weeks of the same hopeless routine, Wolf hadn't reached a better conclusion.

Professor Midvalley's words haunted him on the walk back to their room. _Maybe it's time to think about dropping something. That guy who follows you around everywhere, you know the one? Think about the kind of example you're setting for all those little kids._

He swallowed back the soreness in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut against the impending tears. There wasn't any time for this. Get a grip. Breathe normally.

Wolf held himself together until they reached the room. Then he felt Vash's hand on his shoulder, and he lost it. He covered his face with both hands, ashamed to be crying, ashamed to be noticed. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn't supposed to be so goddamn fragile.

Vash tugged at his shirt. "Wolf? Are you all right?"

He sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve. "Yeah. It's nothing." He saw the tears in Vash's eyes, and laughed shakily. "Hey, cut that out. No fair stealing my thunder."

Wolf's last words were muffled, because Vash pulled him into an embrace so tight that he could hardly breathe. The initial shock was quickly replaced by warmth and comfort, and the unexpected urge to cry again because how many weeks had it been since this feeling of Vash's arms around him, this feeling of being wanted, of being necessary, of being alive? Wolf laid his head against the place where Vash's heart beat and willed the rest of the world to disappear.

Vash combed his hand through Wolf's hair and said, "You told me once that I didn't have to lie if I wasn't feeling okay. Do you think you have to lie to me?" Wolf's shoulders hitched, and Vash held him tighter. "I'm sorry. I've been dragging you down with me, and I didn't realize…what a burden I must be."

"No," Wolf replied, his voice raw. "It's not your fault. I just…I don't know what I'm doing anymore. With school or work or anything. I'm worried about Shepherd. I might lose my job. I'm having second thoughts about my major. And all this time, I've wanted to help you, but I feel like I'm just making things worse. Hiding out and keeping secrets…" He took Vash's wrist in his hand, feeling the bulk of bandages beneath the sleeve. "Vash, I've been afraid of losing my life before. I've been hurt by other people, and I've seen people get hurt. But I've never felt as scared as I do right now."

He gazed pleadingly into Vash's eyes, seeking some hint or clue as to what he should do, how he could stop this unnamed force from shredding them both to pieces. Yet he knew that Vash had no more answers than he did. They only had each other, so that's what they held onto.

Outside their window the night grew darker, colder. Wolf was already running late for class. He nestled his head under Vash's chin, burying himself in the familiar smell of Vash's jacket. But he couldn't afford to ignore reality any longer.

"I have to go." Wolf stepped back, and Vash hung onto his hands. "Believe me, I don't want to. There's a paper due tomorrow and—_shit._" Wolf pounded a fist against his forehead. "Ethics midterm. Damn it, I forgot." He sighed. "Guess I'm not getting any sleep tonight."

Vash wrinkled his eyebrows sympathetically. "What's your paper on?" he asked.

"God, I don't even remember. The history of religious warfare or something." He uncovered his textbook from a pile of laundry and shoved it into his satchel. Vash picked up one of the grocery bags and held it out to him.

"Take a granola bar." Vash gave him a sloping smile, and Wolf's nerves settled down a bit.

"Thanks. I'll be back soon."

He started for the door, changed his mind, spun around and kissed Vash on the mouth. Then he hurried down the hall before Vash could see what color his face had turned.

* * *

Class dragged on later than usual. As the professor turned out the lights for a slideshow presentation, Wolf caught himself nodding off at his desk. He scribbled notes to stay awake, yawning constantly, and when the lecture finally ended, Wolf had given up on the idea of studying or writing his paper that night. He'd set his alarm early and try to squeeze everything in the next morning, before work.

_Like that will happen,_ he thought as he reached the door to his room, turning the key in the lock.

What he found behind the door made him wonder if he'd stepped into the wrong room. The piles of laundry and scattered books had disappeared. In the warm pool of light cast by the lamp on the nightstand, Wolf could see Neko curled up contentedly beside the heater. Vash was lying on his stomach in bed, watching a movie on his laptop. He'd changed into his pajamas, his hair wet from the shower. He smiled at Wolf and took one earphone out. "How was class?"

"I—you—it was, uh—" Wolf stared at him. "What happened in here?"

Vash shrugged mysteriously, putting his earphone back in. As Wolf removed his satchel, he noticed a neat stack of papers on the desk, printed and stapled. He read the title on the first page. _Holy Wars: Crusades and Conquests Throughout the Ages. A Study by Nicholas Wolfwood._

It would have been a perfect title for his research essay, except for the fact that he hadn't written it yet. He flipped through the pages, fifteen total, double-spaced, footnotes and citations—"Vash? What the hell _is_ all this?"

Vash stretched lazily. "It's the paper you wrote for tomorrow. I changed the title, though. Because, no offense, but 'The History of Religious Warfare or Something' really sucked."

"But," Wolf spluttered, "but that's plagiarism! That's cheating! I can't turn this in!"

"Whose name is on the cover?"

Unable to stand, Wolf sank into the chair beside the desk. "Vash…"

"I typed up a study guide for your midterm, too. Look it over before the test, and you should be gold."

Wolf leafed through the second set of pages, overwhelmed. "When did you…_how_ did you…"

Vash closed his laptop and sat up. "Wolf, I don't know if I'd be alive if you hadn't been with me these past few weeks. It's really the least I could do." He smiled shyly. "Besides, now you can get all the sleep you want tonight."

Wolf didn't know what to say. His face registered equal parts disbelief, liberation, affection. Then he smiled back.

"I don't think I'm going to sleep for a while yet," he said. And he hurtled into Vash with a kiss so deep that they both fell into the sheets, tangled and laughing, feeling like themselves again.


	9. Truth

_Three weeks after Nigh disappeared, they found me. Hiding in an abandoned train car in some strange city, starved and clinging to life by a thread. I pulled the gun on them. Cornered like an animal, prepared for the worst. They spoke to me in calming voices. Said they could be trusted. But it wasn't until they said her name that I dropped the gun and fell to my knees, too weak to crawl forward._

_ "We've been looking for you for a very long time," they said. "Where is your brother?"_

_ As I stared at their faces, tears emerged from my eyes and spilled down, unending._

_ "He said he'd come back."_

* * *

Vash awoke with Wolf in his arms. The pale light of dawn fringed his outline with a hazy glow, interrupted only by the steady movement of his breathing. Neko had curled up on the bed during the night, a warm ball of fluff against their feet. Vash leaned forward imperceptibly and brushed his lips over the nape of Wolf's neck. Inhaled the burnt coffee smell of his hair. _Memorize this feeling,_ Vash thought. _Never let go._

He raised his head, just enough to see Wolf's face. Eyes sealed under black lashes, a strand of hair caught between parted lips, the faint suggestion of a beard. It was so rare that Vash caught Wolf in a moment like this, oblivious and vulnerable, finally at rest. He didn't want the moment to end. But then Wolf stirred and his eyes slit open and Vash remembered why he'd woken up in the first place.

That smile.

"You've got a spiky head again," Wolf said, his voice ragged with sleep. He ran a lazy hand over Vash's hair, flopping his bangs into his eyes. Vash grinned.

Wolf reached over the side of the bed to retrieve his phone. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the screen. "Hell, it's only six A.M." He turned back to Vash, propping himself up on one elbow. "Two hours until work. What do you want to do?"

Vash peered out the window at the sharpening sunlight. "Go for a run?"

Wolf shook his head, burrowing into the covers. "Too cold." He paused. "How about the gym instead?"

Vash nodded.

"Okay. Five more minutes," Wolf murmured, his eyes closing. The black cat, disturbed by their movement, stretched its limbs and yawned, then climbed onto Wolf's chest and settled down for another nap. Vash watched them both doze off as easily as they'd woken. He smoothed Neko's fur with a tentative hand. The cat's tail flicked, but to Vash's surprise, it didn't swat him away. He lay there beside them, petting Neko and watching Wolf's chest rise and fall, until his mind wandered somewhere else. Somewhere sweet and sad and just out of reach, under a sky so blue that it almost hurt to look up. Somewhere faraway, yet not so long ago…

Vash jolted alert. Time was slipping away from him again. Panic rose in his throat as he tried to remember how many minutes he'd been lying there, tried to drag himself back to reality, back to their room. Back to Wolf.

He shook Wolf's shoulder gently, afraid for some reason that the dark eyes wouldn't open, that he'd be trapped there alone.

"Dammit, Spiky. I said five minutes, not five seconds."

The relief flooded in so quickly that Vash laughed. And nearly cried. He found Wolf's hand with his own and held on tight.

Neko began to knead the covers with sharp claws, and Wolf groaned. "Okay, okay. I'm awake. Let's go." He nudged the cat off the bed as he sat up, and his drowsy eyes slid over to Vash. "But coffee first."

Something about this morning felt different from all the days preceding it, though nothing was out of the ordinary. To Vash, even the most mundane activities seemed imbued with meaning. Changing into a new shirt, tying his shoes. Fighting for elbow room with Wolf while they brushed their teeth. Knotting their hands together as they walked down the empty hall, casual as could be.

Meryl looked up from her cup of tea as they passed through the atrium, her sleep-heavy eyes brightening. "You're alive!" she said to Vash. "I was beginning to wonder."

Vash vaulted over the desk and scooped Meryl out of her chair, taking her by surprise. She yelped as he spun her around in a bear hug, laughing.

"Put me down!" Meryl shrieked. But Vash's laughter was contagious, and she couldn't help snorting when she finally reached the ground again, shaking her head and smoothing her shirt. "You and Millie, honestly. Just because I'm short, that doesn't mean I'm your pet puppy."

"He does the same thing to me," Wolf said. "You can punch him in the face if you want, but I don't think he'll learn."

Vash smiled imperviously. "Pass that hug along to Millie," he told Meryl. "I'd be failing art if it wasn't for her."

"Why don't you thank her in person?" Meryl said. "Study group at our place tonight. And both of you had better be there."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Vash agreed before Wolf could form a reply of his own. He knew Wolf would have said yes, anyway. While Vash had been holed up in their room through most of October, Wolf had pleaded with him to get out and visit their friends again. He squeezed Wolf's hand as they left Chapel Hall and headed for the library coffee shop. How was it that he always felt so indebted toward this quiet companion of his? No matter what Vash did to try to make up for the pain he'd caused, Wolf stepped in at the worst of times to overwhelm him with another show of kindness that he could never repay. Not that Wolf would ever ask for anything in return. And that was what made it all the more difficult.

There on the sidewalk in the middle of campus, Vash put his arms around Wolf's shoulders and pulled him close. When he let go, Wolf laughed nervously and scratched his head, blushing. "What was that for?"

Vash shrugged, feeling the heat rise in his own face. "Nothing. Just for…you."

A disarming smile. "Then, this—" Wolf glanced around before he stood on his toes and kissed Vash on the corner of his mouth. "—is for you."

* * *

To be honest, Vash hated going to the gym. Running on a treadmill with no change of scenery felt pointless, and he could never figure out how to work the weight machines without breaking them. Wolf had his earphones in, pedaling nowhere on a stationary bike. The rest of the gym was empty. With no one to talk to and nothing to do, Vash wandered the building, exploring the various rooms. A dance studio lined with mirrors, a racquetball court, a swimming pool drained and closed for maintenance. He stopped in a room full of punching bags. The light was switched off, and rows of shadowy hulks hung from the ceiling like slabs in a meat locker. Vash didn't like the feeling the room gave him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. There was something chillingly familiar about it.

He took a step into the room. A sharp smell of antiseptic, formaldehyde—but that wasn't here, was it? _No,_ Vash thought as his shoulder brushed one of the things hanging from the ceiling, and a shiver ran through him. _I'm somewhere else._

Somewhere white and clean and frightening, somewhere just at the edge of his memory. He lifted his left hand and saw a gun, loaded and primed, shaking in his grip. The man? The park in the city? No. This was a different place. A hospital, maybe. Like the doctor's office from when they were little. Nigh was there, too, but he was older. They weren't kids anymore.

_"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do for him."_

Wait—that voice. Wasn't that…

Vash stared down the sight into Dr. Conrad's eyes. Saw the bullet fly. Heard his own voice screaming. Then a piercing noise ringing in his ears. Light so bright he couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

Was he still screaming?

"Vash!" Hands on his arms, wrenching them backward. He struck out with his elbow and hit something, loosening the grip and exacting a sound of pain. "Vash, for God's sake it's me! It's me."

Two dark eyes came into focus, wide and rimmed with tears. Wolf. A red welt forming on his face where Vash had hit him. They were sitting on the floor of the room in the gym, the light turned on. "Wolf…? What happened?" Vash asked.

Wolf gaped at him. "What—_what happened? _I hear you screaming and run down the hall to find you in the goddamn dark, whaling on a goddamn punching bag until your goddamn _hand_ busts open, and you want _me _to tell you what happened?" He ran a trembling hand over his sweaty face, wincing when he touched the bruise. Then he reached for Vash's shoulder. "Shit, Vash. I'm really—"

"Stay away!" Vash tried to scrabble out of Wolf's reach, but his hand slipped and he fell backward, pain shooting through his wrist. He crawled to the corner of the room and huddled against the wall, and that's when he noticed the blood. Smears of it on the floor where he'd slipped. Dark red blotches on the surface of a punching bag, still rocking on its chain. He looked down at his left arm and saw the mangled hand, the skin torn open and dripping. Dull fire raging in his veins.

"Stay away from me," Vash repeated, quieter this time. "Don't let me hurt you again. I don't want you to get hurt."

He couldn't bear to look at Wolf's face, afraid of what he'd find there. The silence gnawed at his insides. At last, Wolf sighed and stood up. "You're one to talk," he muttered. And he came over to Vash and kneeled beside him, inspecting the injured hand. "We should get you to a doctor. You might have broken something."

"No." Vash shook his head. "I'm fine. I can deal with it."

Wolf pressed one finger to the open wound on Vash's knuckles, and he shrieked.

"Don't let me hurt you again," Wolf quipped with a deadpan expression. "Come on, we're going to the clinic."

* * *

The waiting room of the health services building was already decorated for Christmas, despite the fact that several weeks were left before Thanksgiving. The receptionist had given Vash a clipboard full of paperwork to fill out, and he sat puzzling over the forms while Wolf peeled a makeshift bandage of paper towels away from Vash's left hand.

"Still bleeding," Wolf said. "Not so much, though."

Vash tapped the pencil on the clipboard repeatedly with his free hand. "I don't know the answers to all these questions. Do you think it matters?"

Wolf leaned over and peered at the forms. His eyebrows shot up. "Your social security number? _Your last name?_ Yeah, I'm pretty sure those things matter."

He laughed, but Vash's face was serious. "I don't know them."

"Very funny." Wolf narrowed his eyes, though he couldn't mask the uneasiness in his voice. "Quit goofing around, Spiky. You're not getting out of this—"

"Excuse me," a nurse interrupted them. "Are you Vash?"

Vash set the clipboard down and stood up politely, nodding.

"Professor Luida informed me about you. I'm terribly sorry for the confusion. She's on her way now."

"Thank you," Vash said quietly. He wasn't looking forward to being chewed out by the professor, but at least that took care of the paperwork issue. He could feel Wolf's eyes studying him, trying to figure him out.

"Whenever you're ready," the nurse said. "You can leave the clipboard at the desk."

Vash turned to pick up the uncompleted forms, then paused. The first three digits of the social security number had been filled in. Only seconds ago, they'd been blank. "Did you write these numbers?" he asked Wolf.

"I haven't touched it," Wolf answered.

The memory of that day on the church playground swept over Vash with full force. The crossword, the little girl, the stranger's voice in his head. He glanced around the waiting room, but no one else was there. He looked down at the numbers again. _853._

"Can I keep this page?" he asked the receptionist at the desk. Receiving a nonchalant shrug in reply, he folded the paper and wedged it in his pocket.

"Right this way," the nurse said, gesturing to an open door. Wolf followed close behind Vash, and the nurse guided them down a hallway to a small examination room. "Luida will be here shortly."

Vash sat down on the edge of a table covered in crinkly paper. The door closed, and they were alone.

Wolf folded his arms. "You wanna tell me what _that_ was all about?"

The question hardly reached Vash's ears. His mind was a barricade, a last stand against the memories that threatened to burst inside. Dr. Conrad, Nigh, the empty boxes, the numbers. Why only three? What did it mean?

"It's complicated," Vash said finally.

"No kidding." Wolf paced the room, shaking his head. "And you're not kidding, either. That's what's so hard to believe. How'd you manage to get into college if you don't even know your own name?"

Vash shrugged. "Luida helps me with that stuff."

Wolf stopped to look him straight in the eye. "There's another thing. Just who is this Luida person, anyway? You never mentioned her before."

As if on cue, the door handle turned and the professor stepped inside. Vash risked a timid smile, trying to hide his injured hand behind his back. Luida wore her usual solemn frown, unfazed by Vash's attempt at innocence. "What have you done now?" she asked.

"Nothing!" Vash laughed, much too loudly. "I tripped and fell on the sidewalk and Wolf here made a big deal out of it, so…"

The professor's sharp gaze flicked over to Wolf, who stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. They exchanged brief, distrustful nods.

"Thank you for looking after him, young man. I hope this fool hasn't caused you any trouble. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to speak with Vash alone—"

"No, wait." Vash reached for Wolf's arm. "It's all right, Luida. I want him to stay."

A single crease of concern betrayed itself on Luida's forehead. "Are you sure about this?"

Wolf sat down next to Vash, protectively. "He can be trusted," Vash said.

The professor stared at Wolf, and Wolf stared back. Neither of them seemed at ease with the other. "Well," Luida said after an uncomfortable pause, "it's your call."

She directed him to the sink and told him to rinse his hand while she put on gloves and prepared an alcohol swab. Vash flinched when she pushed up his sleeve.

"This again." Vash thought he detected disappointment in her voice, though she didn't sound surprised. "When did it start?"

Vash ducked his head. "I don't know," he mumbled. "A while ago. I don't remember…"

From behind them, Wolf spoke up. "He's been hurting himself since the first day of school. Maybe before that."

Luida acknowledged this with a tilt of her chin. Vash met her eyes guiltily.

"You know what I'm going to say." She turned off the faucet, lifted his hand and swabbed the wounds. The sting from the alcohol made him wince. "Frankly, I don't see the point in repeating myself anymore. When I ask you to report everything to us, I mean everything. Accidental or not. You know your condition. You know what's at risk."

She filled a cup with water and handed it to him. "Drink this and sit down, you need to rehydrate. Go ahead and cover it up again. They can use your other arm for the IV."

Vash tugged his sleeve down obediently. The professor called in a nurse to handle the IV and take an X-ray while she filled a syringe with a vial from her small black bag. Wolf watched as she injected Vash, the worry on his face growing deeper by the second. _It's okay,_ Vash mouthed to him.

"Have you noticed any changes in your sleep patterns?" Luida asked. "Any abnormalities?"

Vash shook his head, but Wolf said, "He has nightmares. Almost every night. Is that normal?"

A trace of amusement crossed Luida's features, and Vash shot an angry glare at Wolf. "I'm glad _someone_ here is being honest," Luida said. "You'd better hang onto this friend of yours, Vash. He seems to know you better than you know yourself."

"He doesn't realize where he is sometimes," Wolf went on, "or what he's doing. I think that's why he has trouble remembering things."

"That's not good." The professor unpacked a memo pad from her bag and jotted down a note. "Has your memory improved at all over the past several months?" Luida redirected her attention to Vash. "Have you remembered anything about July?"

The word triggered a flash of recognition in Vash's mind. July. Where last year a fire had swallowed the entire clinical research wing of the university, leaving no trace behind. Where Vash had emerged unscathed, with no recollection of how he'd survived or what he had been doing there.

Where Dr. Conrad was last seen before he disappeared, presumed dead in the fire.

_Oh, God. Oh, no._

The white room. The gun in his hand.

Vash swallowed back the sickening taste in his throat. Shook his head once, twice, three times. "No," he said. "Nothing yet."

"If there's anything at all, I need to know. Even the smallest piece of evidence could help us find out what happened."

He summoned every ounce of composure to look her squarely in the eye. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew."

The professor closed her notebook and sighed, taking off her glasses to rub her temples. "We suffered a tremendous loss in Dr. Conrad. But we will continue his work as long as we can." She repositioned her glasses and cleared her throat. "There's a new drug that the research team has been perfecting. It's almost ready to go to trial. However, I'm afraid that the side effects could be worse. And I'm not sure if that's a risk I'm willing to take."

Vash thought this over. Then he raised his head. "I want to try. If it works, I might be able to give it to Nigh."

Luida frowned. "Vash, it's a tremendous gamble. From what little information we've received about Nigh, we know he's managed to slow the deterioration process somehow. Your condition is much more advanced."

"Then what have I got to lose?" He gave her a sidelong smile. "Besides, no one else can test it, can they? Unless you think you can persuade Nigh yourself."

After a moment of hesitation, the professor relented. "All right. The decision is yours to make. But I insist that you keep us informed about your wellbeing, this time. If you don't, I'm sure I can rely on Wolf to step in."

She held out a hand to Wolf, and he shook it somberly. "The nurse will take care of you from here," Luida said. "Tell them to send the bill to my office."

The door opened and closed and she was gone. Wolf sat in silence, avoiding Vash's eyes. When the nurse returned with the X-ray results, they learned that Vash had fractured his hand and broken two fingers. He was fixed up with braces and splints and given antibiotics and pain medicine to take once a day, which Wolf said he would hold onto. They were on their way out of the clinic when Vash realized it was almost noon.

"I can get back to the dorm by myself," he said to Wolf as they walked down the sidewalk toward Chapel Hall. "Don't you have to be at work?"

Wolf didn't answer, only shook his head. Vash could tell he was holding everything inside, trying not to break, and the anticipation of what was to come made Vash want to turn and run.

When they reached Room 206, Wolf put his face in his hands and took a long, shuddering breath. His voice came out muffled and wet. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick."

Vash stood unmoving in the center of the room, arms hanging uselessly at his sides. He wished he could disappear.

"Why," Wolf repeated.

"Because. I…" _Because I didn't want to hurt you. Because I didn't want to think about it. Because I don't want to have to say goodbye. _"I wasn't sure that I could trust you."

"_Trust_ me?" Wolf removed his hands from his face, one eye red and swollen on the side that Vash had bruised. "I could have been making you worse! And you wouldn't have told me anything. What the hell is going on, Vash? Why did she say—what did she mean, about a condition? And you, talking like—like you're going to die or something—"

"I am going to die."

Wolf went rigid. Then he barked, "Oh, _ha ha_, very clever, smartass, 'cause everyone's gonna die, right? Don't mock me right now, you know what I meant—"

"I'm not mocking you." Every word, a knife twisting in his ribcage. "I know what you meant, and you were right. Wolf, I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner."

"What…" The anger and sarcasm in Wolf's voice had been replaced with a weak rasp of shock. "What are you t—talking…about…"

"Luida and the others—the people who take care of me—they think I probably won't live past twenty-five." Vash spoke as gently as he could. "To be honest, I shouldn't have made it this far in the first place. The way that I am…my cells don't heal the way they're supposed to. The older I get, the longer it takes."

Vash sat on the edge of the bed and Wolf sank down next to him, absorbing the truth slowly. "Is that what the drugs are for?" he asked.

"Sort of. Mostly they help my immune system. It's not a cure or anything. They give me weird dreams and stuff, but it's not so bad."

Wolf slouched forward and buried his head in his arms. Vash pulled at his sleeve. "Hey, don't cry…"

"_I'm not. Fucking. Crying._" He peered up at Vash with tears running down to his chin. "Why would I cry over an—an idiot—like—"

Vash curled his arms around Wolf and held him tight against his chest.

"I hate your goddamn guts," Wolf said, clinging to Vash's shirt. "You know that?"

The sunlight from the window inched its way across the floor and up the wall. Vash's gaze fell on the white cross over the bed, silent and symbolic as ever, though its meaning was a mystery. Did Wolf know? Had some celestial secret been locked inside, that if they whispered the right magical words in the right magical combination, it might reveal itself to them? Vash looked down at his truest friend, the sad, scared boy who'd nearly cried himself to sleep on his lap, and ran his fingers through his hair. If there was any cross on Wolf's back, Vash thought, it was his doing. Maybe he shouldn't have let Wolf stay in the room when Professor Luida showed up. Maybe he should have kept the truth hidden away.

Maybe there was no good way to deal with this kind of pain.

* * *

Wolf didn't want to go to class that night, but with midterms hanging over his head, he couldn't avoid it. Before he left, he made sure that Vash took his pain medicine, then demanded that Vash send him a text message every thirty minutes with a report on how he was feeling.

"I'll be fine," Vash laughed. "It's only a few hours."

"A lot can happen in a few hours." Wolf furrowed his brow. "I really don't think I should leave you alone."

Vash picked up Wolf's satchel and shoved it into his arms. "Go to class. I didn't write you a fifteen-page paper so you could flunk out of college, you slacker."

Wolf gritted his teeth as he strapped the bag over his shoulder. "Every thirty minutes. Don't forget."

"I won't." Vash pushed him out the door, almost slamming it on his fingers as Wolf turned to remind him to eat something so the medicine wouldn't make him sick. When he finally disappeared down the hallway, Vash shut the door and dug around in one of the grocery bags Wolf had brought home the night before. He found an apple and took a bite, then picked up his phone to type a message. _I am eating an apple and I feel awesome. :)_ He shot a photo of himself with an exaggerated thumbs-up and sent it to Wolf.

A moment later, he received a reply. _That's more like it._

Vash sat down at the desk and took the crumpled medical form out of his pocket. Now that he was alone, he had a chance to think about those numbers and what they meant. He switched on the lamp and unearthed the crossword puzzle from its hiding place in the desk drawer.

_Puppets. 853. _The only clues he'd been given to decipher Nigh's message.

"Empty boxes," Vash muttered. The form for the social security number had nine boxes, with three filled in. That left six.

Was it a sequence? Subtract three, subtract two…If he continued the pattern, he would subtract one, then zero, then add one, add two, add three…

No. The last number in the sequence would fill two spaces, and there was only one left. That wasn't the answer.

He directed his attention to the blank spaces in the crossword. Letters seemed more cryptic than numbers, unless…did they correspond to one another, somehow? Several attempts to translate the numbers into a meaningful set of letters left Vash with nothing but a page full of scribbles. He ran them forward and backward, rearranged the digits to no avail. Then he ripped out the page from his notebook and decided to try a new approach.

What did he know? What had he learned? He stared at his broken hand and wrote down the word _July. _Then, _Dr. Conrad. Nigh._

After a moment of thought, he erased Nigh's name and wrote _Knives_ instead. Nigh wouldn't have used his old name.

He began to insert the words into the puzzle, starting with the _U_ in _Puppets_ for _July._ He added his own name along with _Conrad_ and _Knives, _and then he stopped writing.

_Eight, five, three._ _Eight fifty-three._ It wasn't a social security number. It wasn't a sequence.

_"Time of death, eight fifty-three A.M…_"

It was a date.

Vash closed his eyes and saw the operating table, surrounded by tubes and machinery. Saw her eyes staring emptily at the ceiling.

Six empty boxes. One for the day, one for the month, four for the year.

_Eight fifty-three. The sixth of July. Two years before we were born._

He filled in the numbers, a perfect fit. His hand hovered over the crossword before he added a name: _Tesla._

A buzzing noise made Vash jump so badly that he banged his elbow against the desk. His phone screen lit up with a message from Wolf that read, _Report!_

It took a minute for his nerves to settle. Vash typed back, _Still awesome. Still apple,_ and set the phone aside.

Looking at the puzzle with fresh eyes, he thought of a possibility he hadn't yet considered. There were numbers in the crossword, too—written in small type at the corners of certain boxes, to indicate where a new word began. Five across, seven down, and so on. Since the original printed clues had been torn out, Vash hadn't paid much attention to the words' corresponding numbers. Now it seemed obvious that they were a part of the message, too.

He wrote out the digits from the medical form—the date of Tesla's death—and circled the matching numbers in the crossword. To each number, a letter. _S-H-E-_

There was no number six in the puzzle, so he left a space.

_L-I-V-E-S._

Vash stared at the message, the unmistakable words. His breath caught in his throat.

_She lives._


	10. Song of Solomon

_The way I remember it, there were four people living in our house. Mom and Dad and me, and Grandfather. I was scared of the old man, but I didn't have to see him much because he spent all his time in the upstairs attic. When I was five years old, I told my dad that Grandfather wanted to speak with him._

_ "Who?" my father said, his face gone pale._

_ "He keeps knocking on the ceiling of my room," I explained. "He keeps saying your name."_

_ My father told me I was speaking blasphemy. He pushed me away, crossing himself repeatedly. "Kid's got the devil's blood in him," he would say to my mother. "You gave birth to an iniquity."_

_ She left a few years later, unable to stand the punishment for my existence. On the day my father moved my bed into the attic, I screamed and cried._

_ "I've had enough of your bullshit," my father said. "Ain't nothing in that attic but cobwebs."_

_ "But I've seen him," I insisted. "He's taller than you and he's got a mustache. He wears a gray suit. And he's got marks around his neck, like this." I circled my hands around my throat, and my father's eyes went bloodshot and for a moment I thought he was going to pass out. Then he beat me until I couldn't stand up._

_ I never mentioned my grandfather again. Every night he watched me from the shadows, and every night I prayed that he would leave. If I ever returned to that house, I know he'd still be there, waiting._

_ Sometimes I look into darkened rooms and search for the shape of my father. I long to see his face in that unearthly light. Because then I'll know it's over. I'll know he's finally rotting in hell, and nothing could make me happier._

* * *

Wolf was out of breath by the time he reached the dorm room after class. He paused to cough into his sleeve before he unlocked the door and stepped inside. There was Vash, sprawled on the floor with his feet in the air, sketching something on a pad of paper while Neko peeked over his shoulder.

_Everything's okay._ Wolf dropped his satchel on the floor and attempted to slow his racing pulse.

"What happened?" Vash asked, glancing up from his drawing. "Did somebody chase you here?"

Anger flared up in Wolf's chest. "_You,_" he accused hoarsely, resisting another bout of coughs, "never replied to my last text."

"I didn't?" Vash blinked at him in genuine surprise. Wolf noticed his jacket on the floor and picked it up, unearthing Vash's phone from the pocket. He flicked the screen on and held it up to Vash's face. Ten missed messages, each more irate than the one before.

"Oops," Vash said.

Wolf couldn't get enough air to make a comeback. He dropped the phone into Vash's hands and doubled over coughing until his throat was sore. Vash laid a hand on his back. When Wolf raised his head, red-faced and bleary, Vash kissed him between the eyes and said, "I'm sorry."

A sigh, another cough, and finally a defeated smile. "How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at you," Wolf muttered.

"You're not." Vash grinned. "Now tell me how your test went."

"I'm not sure yet. The study guide helped a lot." Wolf scratched his head. "I think I passed. I hope."

"Then we should celebrate!" Vash sprang to his feet and pulled at Wolf's hand. "Hurry up and get ready. Millie and Meryl will be waiting for us."

"What's the rush? I thought we were just going to study."

"Who says we can't celebrate at the same time?"

Wolf pried his hand loose. "Wait, Vash. Wait just a minute. I'm not...I still have a lot of questions."

"About what?"

"About...you. About today."

"Oh." Vash rocked back on his heels and hunched his shoulders. "Do we have to talk about that right now? Thinking about that stuff kind of makes me feel weird."

"So what? Are you just going to ignore it?" Wolf stood up and faced Vash squarely. "I don't want to walk in here one day and find you hurt again. I don't want to learn about your goddamn terminal illness secondhand." The heat rose up and ached in the bruise on his face. "Do you know what people said about you when you first came here? How you were some kind of walking disaster? All that human hurricane nonsense? I didn't listen to them because I trusted you. I thought if I waited long enough..." His eyes fell to the brace on Vash's wrist. "...you'd tell me what was going on. But I feel like I know less about you now than I did when we met."

Wolf noticed Vash withdrawing, and his voice softened. "I'm not trying to pry into your past. Some things are important, though."

"Like what?" Vash asked quietly.

"Like that drug Professor Luida was talking about. The new one you said you wanted to test." Wolf took a step toward him. "Tell me the truth. Did you ask her to do the trial...because she said it was dangerous? Are you trying to...trying to..."

"Kill myself?" Vash finished the sentence for him with a dry smile. "No. I can see why you'd think that, but no."

"Then why? Can't they test it on someone else? Someone healthier?"

Vash shook his head. "There are only two people in the world with the disease. And one of them wouldn't be caught dead with a needle in his arm."

"Nigh." Wolf recalled the name he'd overheard in the examination room. A name that smarted of something familiar, something he couldn't place. "Who is he?"

A shadow crossed over Vash's face. He looked as if he wasn't going to answer. At last he closed his eyes and said, "My twin brother."

Wolf stared at Vash. He wasn't sure why he felt shocked. Neither of them had ever spoken about their families. Then Wolf remembered. That freckle under Vash's left eye. There was a reason he thought he'd seen it somewhere before.

Years ago, at St. Michael's. A boy in the upper grades, five years ahead of Wolf. A freckle just like Vash's, only on the right side instead of the left. Wolf had forgotten his name, forgotten everything about him, until now.

_Nigh._

"Is that so strange?" The question brought Wolf back to the present. Vash wore a calm expression, every trace of darkness vanished.

"No," Wolf said quickly. "No, it's just...I didn't know you had a twin."

Vash smiled halfway. "Guess a normal person would've mentioned it sooner."

"I don't know about that. I've never had siblings. But I'm not exactly on great terms with my family, either."

"We used to be closer. A long time ago." Vash stared out the window, counting on his fingers. "It's funny. I can't remember how many years it's been since Rem—" He glanced at Wolf, and his voice trailed off. "Um. Since Rem..."

Wolf reached for his hand. "I'm sorry." He didn't want to push too far, but he couldn't help his curiosity. "Was she family, too?"

Vash hesitated, then sighed. "More than anyone else. Back then, if she'd asked Nigh to shoot a hole in the moon, he would've done it. But that won't help us now. Even if she was still around, she'd be the last person he'd want to listen to." Vash sounded like he was trying to sort through his own thoughts as he spoke them. "I need to help Luida and the others find a cure before it's too late. Because I'm the only one who has a chance at saving him."

"Where is he now?" Wolf asked.

"I don't know. The last time I saw him was in July. And...I don't remember what happened after that."

His fingers dug into Wolf's palm. There was something in his downturned gaze that suggested he knew more than he was letting on, but Wolf was used to that. _Probably time to stop asking questions. _He let go of Vash's hand and picked up his satchel. "Let's go see Meryl and Millie."

A spark of happiness returned to Vash's eyes. "I hope Millie bought the whiskey this time!"

"_No drinking._ Not while you're on meds." Wolf gave him a stern look. "Are you even _allowed_ to drink, in the first place?"

Vash stuck out his lip. "Come on, one little shot never hurt anyone. You're starting to sound like Professor Luida."

"Not a drop," Wolf commanded.

"You take the fun out of everything."

* * *

As soon as Millie answered the door, she threw her arms around Vash. "I thought I'd never see you again!" she cried.

Vash laughed. "It hasn't been that long, has it?"

"Everyone in class misses you. And you had me worried sick!" Millie tried to scowl reproachfully, but she couldn't keep the grin off her face. "Things have been lonely around here with only Meryl and Mr. Wolfwood for company."

"You're lucky you had Meryl! Believe me, I know what a bore Mr. Wolfwood can be."

Millie giggled. Wolf glared at Vash with festering contempt.

"Wolf?" Meryl rose from her desk chair, taking off her reading glasses. "What happened to your face?"

_Crap._ He'd forgotten about the bruise. And the brace on Vash's wrist, for that matter. "Um..." he stalled. "Well, I...uh..."

"It was the _craziest_ thing!" Vash strode into the room, dragging Wolf behind him. "We were on Wolf's bike this morning, right? And all of a sudden this tree branch comes out of nowhere and totally _clotheslines_ Wolf! So the bike keeps going one way but we go the other, and I put my arm out to stop Wolf's head from hitting the ground and I end up breaking my hand! Pretty wild, huh?"

"Wow!" Millie gaped at them. "You're lucky to be alive! That branch could have taken Mr. Wolfwood's eye out!"

"You should've heard him scream!" Vash elaborated.

Wolf glanced over at Meryl. She stared back at him, completely unconvinced. He shrugged and attempted to smile, but he knew he'd have to come up with a better answer before the night was over. _Thanks a lot, Spiky._

Meryl cleared her throat. "I picked up some snacks from the store," she announced. On her way to the kitchen, she tapped Wolf on the shoulder. "Can you give me a hand with the drinks?"

"Sure." Wolf followed her into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. Millie turned on some music, and Vash struck up a conversation with her. Their laughter rang out from the room around the corner. Meryl folded her arms and leaned against the refrigerator, waiting. She didn't have to say anything for Wolf to know what she was asking.

"We got into a fight," Wolf said. It was the easiest explanation, and the closest to the truth. He was tired of secrets, anyway.

"Oh." Meryl's eyes flitted to the floor. She struggled to keep her voice level. "If that's the case, I can arrange to have one of you moved to a different dorm..."

"It's nothing like that at all." Wolf shook his head earnestly. "Everything's fine, now."

"Are you sure?" Meryl placed a hand on her hip. "It's our job to make sure everyone is safe here, Wolf. We take that duty seriously."

"I know. But we're okay. I promise. You know how much...how close we are." Wolf felt himself blushing, and pretended to focus on something beneath the counter. "It's just that I'm worried about him. Vash. He...I don't think he'd take care of himself on his own. You know?"

Meryl nodded. "I've noticed. And I think it's good that you're here for him. But you have to take care of yourself, too." She opened the refrigerator and handed him a bottle of soda. "Don't shut us out, all right? We're your friends. If something's going on, then we want to help."

Wolf lined up a row of plastic cups and unscrewed the cap on the soda. "You've already helped a lot," he said. "I'm sorry. You and Millie deserve to know what's happening. To be honest, there's still so much I don't understand. I'm trying to let Vash take his time, but..." He stopped pouring the drinks to scrub his face on his sleeve. "I can't help feeling that time is running—"

"Hey!" Vash yelled from the couch. "How long are you two gonna keep us in suspense? I'm famished!"

Meryl opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Wolf brushed his sleeve over his eyes again and shouted back, "I don't see you lifting a finger to help."

"That's because my finger is broken!"

Wolf laughed despite himself, and Meryl cracked a smile. She opened a bag of chips and spread them out on a tray, then said to Wolf, "Anytime, okay? Remember."

"Thanks."

They returned to the sound of Millie's eighties playlist on rotation. Vash looked up with that winning grin of his, shattering the sneaking sense of dread that had crept into Wolf's stomach. "Millie was just telling me about her independent study. Did you know she builds houses for people?"

Millie laughed nervously. "It's not like I build them all by myself. We have lots of volunteers."

"Is that what you're going to do after you graduate?" Wolf asked, handing her a soda.

"Kind of. Meryl and I want to start a business together."

Meryl sat next to her and laced her hand in Millie's. "An insurance company that helps people rebuild after disasters. Millie's going to be a contractor and I'm going to be an insurance agent."

"Because Meryl's good at paperwork," Millie chimed in, and Meryl snorted.

"Because if I _wasn't, _Millie would never charge a dime for her work and we'd both be out on the street."

"Sounds like you make a good team," Wolf said. He had to admit, he envied them. To have their future mapped out together, each complimenting the other in their partnership—wasn't that the most security anyone could ask for? With his head wrapped up in his immediate problems, Wolf hadn't given much thought to a future after graduation. Now more than ever, he was afraid to envision those years ahead. Afraid to imagine a life without Vash in it. Somehow his subconscious had gotten hold of the idea that Vash would always be there, a permanent part of his world, only to have their story unwritten, torn out of his hands by time and secrets and horrible looming illness. At this rate, Wolf wasn't sure if he'd graduate at all.

The feelings clogged his brain like a heavy fog, pressing against his forehead and stinging under his eyelids. _Don't think about that right now. _He tuned back into the conversation, Vash's voice this time. Bragging about him, as if he deserved it.

"...and mentors this kid named Shepherd. You should see him, he's really good with all of them. Like it's where he belongs. And that's why he reminds me of you, Millie. Because Wolf is always thinking of other people, too, sometimes so much that he forgets about himself."

Wolf and Millie caught each other's eyes for a split second before looking away, embarrassed. "When you put it that way, being forgetful doesn't seem like such a bad thing," Millie said, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I just think, with so many people around, we should all help each other when we can. Don't you think so, Mr. Vash?"

"Yeah." Vash's face lit up. "If everyone looked after each other, we could live in a perfect world. A place without guns or stealing. I really hope I can see that one day."

Meryl tilted her head. "Isn't that a little...idealistic? You can't actually believe that everyone in the world would be willing to drop their arms and stop hurting each other. People are too selfish."

Vash looked from Meryl to Millie to Wolf, as if he were waiting for someone to back him up. "Sorry," Wolf said. "I have to agree with Meryl on this one. Things just aren't that simple."

"It's like I tell Millie," Meryl went on. "You can give all you want without asking anything in return, but you can't expect others to do the same. Eventually, someone's going to take advantage of you."

"I know," Vash said quietly. "I'm not saying that bad things wouldn't happen. But everyone deserves a second chance." He scratched his head, staring at the floor, and his next words were so soft that only Wolf might have heard them. "Your ticket to the future is always blank."

His expression had turned so downcast so quickly that Wolf reached for his hand with uncharacteristic abandon. Again, Wolf found himself jarred by the disconnect between Vash's age and his unguarded innocence. Meryl didn't seem to know what to make of it, either. At last, Millie interrupted their self-conscious pause to offer a change of subject.

"How are your midterms going, Vash?"

The smile returned to Vash's face as suddenly as if he'd flipped a switch. "Oh, they're a breeze. Except for art. Have you started your perspective drawing yet?"

"I finished it while I was working last night." Millie took her sketchbook out of her backpack to show Vash a drawing of the R.A. lounge in the atrium.

"That's amazing, Millie! Your lines are so steady. I can never get three-point perspective to look right..."

As they launched into an art discussion, Wolf remembered his own remaining exams and unpacked his satchel to study. He wondered if Vash was lying about his midterms. Wolf hadn't seen Vash open a single textbook since the first day of school. And yet, he'd managed to write a fifteen-page paper in one evening, for a class he wasn't attending. Wolf gritted his teeth and tried to focus on his philosophy homework, but the questions continued to bother him.

Meryl built a fire in the fireplace as the night grew colder, and they settled into their respective work. Millie chewed on her pencil, spreading out a series of blueprints on the floor, and Vash sat in the corner with his sketchbook on his knees, holding out a ruler at arm's length to map the angles of the room. Aside from the background drone of Millie's music and the occasional rhythmic _tak-tak-tak_ of Meryl's old-fashioned typewriter, they passed an hour or two in silence. When Wolf finally looked up from his textbook, the fire was low and the music had died down to a murmur. Millie had left her blueprints unfinished on the floor, and Meryl's desk was unoccupied. Wolf turned around to see them in a dark corner of the room, entangled in a kiss. He turned back quickly, his face burning. Then he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, and he jumped.

"Only me," Vash said. "Mind if I join you? This sketch is going nowhere."

Wolf scooted over to let Vash onto the couch beside him. The touch of Vash's knee against his was enough to completely distract Wolf from his homework, but he didn't want to move. To make matters worse, Vash leaned his head on Wolf's shoulder and said, "I can help you with that if you want."

"What?" Wolf's voice cracked. "I mean, no. I'm just...reading."

A new song came on, slow and sonorous. Wolf tensed up as Vash edged closer. Between the fire and the music and the lovebirds in the corner and Vash's hair brushing his cheek, Wolf could hardly maintain his composure. He adjusted the textbook on his lap.

"Um," he said. "Maybe we should leave."

Vash tipped his head back with a soft smile, blue eyes flecked with orange firelight. "Sleepy?" he asked.

Wide awake, Wolf nodded. He shivered as Vash nudged a hand underneath the hem of his shirt. Closed the book and set it aside. And closed the gap between their lips.

Some desperate, all-consuming emotion hinged them together like a magnet attraction. Wolf's thumb grazed the brace on Vash's wrist, and the threatening voice came back into his head, _This could be the last time. Any day, any moment. Taken._ He shut his eyes against his fears and surrendered to the woodsmoke smell of the embers, the gentle pressure of Vash's mouth against his, and the rise and fall of the music drifting from the speakers,

"_Don't want your bullshit, just want your sexuaaality…"_

Vash climbed onto Wolf's lap and they leaned into the couch cushions, sinking lower. Wolf slid his hands into Vash's pockets as the kisses traveled down his jaw, under his chin, breath so warm and close that it dampened his skin. Slipping into a dreamlike delirium, only to be woken again by a whisper skimming his ear, "Let's go home."

The words shivered down his backbone. Wolf packed his books away as quietly as he could, hoping to make an unobtrusive exit, but as they stood up to tiptoe out the door, Vash blew their cover. "Aren't you going to say goodnight to the R.A. girls?" he asked Wolf loudly.

Meryl and Millie recoiled swiftly from each other, faces flushed. Wolf slapped his forehead.

"Goodnight, Mr. Vash!" Millie laughed shakily, smoothing her hair. "I'd better see you in class this week."

"Yeah, don't be strangers," Meryl added.

"We won't!" Vash waved as Wolf hurried him into the hall and shut the door behind them.

The lights had all gone out for the night. Severed from the warmth of the fireplace, Wolf hunched his shoulders against the drafty darkness and tried to keep pace with Vash. A memory of the shadow-ridden sanctuary entered his mind, and he thought he heard whispers in the stonework. _Nothing's there, _Wolf repeated to himself. _Nothing's—_

"Ow! Jesus fucking Christ." Wolf grabbed his foot, nearly tripping over the first step of the stairwell.

Vash steadied him by the elbow. "Such language. What kind of churchman are you, anyway?"

Wolf could hear the smirk in his voice. "Shut the hell up. C—can't they put some goddamn candles in this creepy old dungeon?"

Vash's fingers curled around his palm. "Hold my hand this time, clumsy."

The panic in Wolf's chest subsided a little as they climbed the stairs. Strange that after all these years, the very thought of their presence gave him chills. He'd always hoped it was something he would grow out of, some defect of the mind that would eventually right itself. But this place had stirred up his unfortunate curse with renewed intensity. If it wasn't for Vash guiding him through these ominous corridors, Wolf might not have had the strength to venture out of Millie and Meryl's room at all.

When they reached the second floor, Wolf froze. Vash walked a few steps further before he stopped and turned around, silhouetted by a faint blue glow. "Are you okay?" Vash asked.

Wolf clenched his hands into fists. "I'm—I'm fine." He didn't dare to look at the source of the light. "Um, Vash? There's not another p—person in this hallway, is there? Up ahead."

Vash scanned the hallway left and right. "I can't see a thing."

"Okay." Wolf swallowed. "Just checking." He averted his eyes from the strengthening glow, and forced himself to walk towards it. The cold, stale air from its lifeless lungs filled the hall with the smell of decay. Wolf reached out a trembling hand and latched onto Vash's jacket. He shut his eyes tight. Heard the key turn in the lock. And then they were back in their room and the door closed behind him and Vash flipped the light switch and they were safe.

Wolf could feel his pulse racing. He collapsed at the foot of the bed with his head in his hands. After a moment, Vash sat beside him. "This building's really scary in the dark," he said offhandedly.

A bitter laugh escaped Wolf's throat. "Guess I'm pretty transparent, huh?"

Vash smiled weakly. "You only stutter when you're scared."

Wolf sighed. "Well, go ahead and laugh if you want. It's not every day that you meet a grown man who's afraid of the dark."

Vash's smile widened. "Who says you're a grown man? You're only _nineteen_—"

Wolf seized the pillow and walloped Vash's face.

"I'm just kidding," Vash snatched the pillow away, still grinning. "I'm not going to laugh at you. Lots of people are afraid of the dark. You didn't laugh at me when you found out I was scared of fire. Besides..." He pulled the sheet over his head and loomed over Wolf. "You weren't afraid of the ghost of Chapel Hall, were you?"

For a split second, Wolf's heart stopped. Then he remembered Vash wandering the hallway with a towel draped over his face, and he laughed. "That beard was scary enough by itself," he said, poking Vash's chin. "Don't ever do that again."

It was long past midnight, but Vash stayed up to work on his art project after Wolf went to bed. Vash left the light on, and though he didn't say anything about it, Wolf suspected it was partly because of him. He had a feeling that Vash knew, somehow, that it wasn't just the dark that made Wolf afraid.

The next morning, in the warm sanctity of the sunlight, Wolf found Vash snoring beside him. While he was getting ready for work, he noticed Vash's finished drawing spread out on the floor. A sketch of their room, depicted to the last detail. The dresser with one drawer half open, the window with the curtains half closed, the desk with Vash's laptop and Wolf's satchel, and on the unmade bed, Wolf himself, asleep.

He stared at the drawing for a long time. He couldn't put the feeling it gave him into words. It was something like the sunlight beaming through the window, warm against his face. He took one last look at Vash, everything he wanted and everything he cared about, and he walked out of Chapel Hall into the light of day.


	11. By the Time This Night is Over

_When there was something Nigh wanted to tell me that we couldn't share with Rem, he'd make it into a puzzle. It was our secret code, back then. Brain puzzles torn from the newspaper with the clues scratched out and new ones written in, math problems and ciphers and word jumbles with a hidden message inside. Even at our young age, the problems were too advanced for the adults to figure out. We took it for granted that we could outsmart them so easily._

_ Five years after Luida and the others took me in, Nigh sent me a puzzle. It was the first I'd heard from him since the day he left me in the train car and promised he'd come back. The note took me weeks to decode, and when I finally solved the riddle, it was too late. A chemical explosion in the research facility killed three scientists._

_ It was a game, and I was losing._

* * *

Vash couldn't remember a better Thanksgiving break than the one they shared that year. Meryl and Millie had chosen that holiday to take R.A. duty at Chapel Hall, and since neither Wolf nor Vash had a home to visit, the four friends spent the entire vacation together. During that long weekend, the flames in Meryl and Millie's fireplace never went out. Vash and Wolf came over on the first day and didn't bother to leave. When they weren't playing cards with Millie in the R.A. lounge or bringing tea to Meryl at the desk, they were wrapped in quilts on the couch or in the spare bed, getting used to the feeling of each other's skin. They bought a huge feast in the refectory on Thanksgiving Day and sat in the atrium with the R.A. girls, eating dinner on paper plates, watching sci-fi western movies on the TV in the corner, laughing at stupid jokes and completely ignoring the stress of jobs and school and the worries that had plagued them all semester. And for the first time since Rem passed away, Vash was reminded of a word that he'd nearly forgotten: _family._

Those few careless days were the richest of his life. Maybe it was the warmth of Millie's laughter that drove out the bitter November cold, maybe it was Meryl's clever ideas for sneaking whiskey into the dorm after hours. Maybe it was the smile on Wolf's face that didn't seem to fade, even when they slept. But the truth was that nothing much happened, and that in itself was paradise.

* * *

A drop of ink fell from the brush and spattered the blank sheet of paper. Vash jolted, shaken from his trance. How many hours had he been sitting at the desk, brush hovering over the page, unable to commit to a single stroke? He stared at the ink blot seeping into the grain of the paper. Now that the decision had been made for him, would he take the mistake and turn it into something meaningful? Or crumple the page and start over again?

Only a few weeks had passed since Thanksgiving break, and already the happiness they'd shared was nothing more than a distant memory. Vash's nightmares had gotten worse. With a new round of injections from Professor Luida, the latest drug seeped into his veins with startling clarity. After the sixth restless night of sweating and shaking and screaming from dreams that wouldn't release him, Wolf pleaded with Vash to halt the trial, but he refused. Wolf missed more classes and smoked more cigarettes. Neither of them could get any sleep.

So here they were again, with final exams creeping up while their separate worlds crumbled around them. Vash gave up on his ink value drawing, setting the brush aside and resting his head in his hands. If he could just slip away for a minute or two, shut his eyes without the fear of what waited behind them…

The door opened, and Vash sat up. He didn't have to turn around to recognize the disgruntled sigh that could only belong to Wolf.

"Everyone in this damn city can go to hell."

"That's not very saintly of you."

"Never trust a third grade teacher, Vash." Wolf dumped his satchel on the floor and ripped off his tie. "Do you know what she said? Do you know what that sneaky Amelia is doing to me?"

"I'm on the edge of my seat."

"And it's all because of _stupid_ Professor Midvalley. He's been on my ass since day one, trying to get me fired 'cause of my grades, and then _Amelia_ has to go and tell him about the work days I missed, and then guess what? He _bargains_ with her, about me, _behind my back,_ to get her to go to his lame concert in exchange for my goddamn _job._ And now I have to go to this _stupid saxophone show_ with Amelia because she doesn't want that creeper Midvalley to think she's single. And you know what she said to me? That I should be _grateful._ That she's doing me a _favor._ A favor! Can you believe that?"

Vash listened to Wolf's tirade with a blank expression. A long silence ensued. "So," Vash said at last, "you have to go to a concert. What's the big deal?"

"I don't have time for this crap!" Wolf groaned. "We're taking the kids from the mentor program on a winter vacation trip next week, so I have to turn in my finals early. And you _know_ I don't do concerts. Especially when the main act is my lame advisor and his lame jazz band."

A yawn escaped Vash's throat before he could stop it. Wolf's eyes narrowed.

"Look, I know this must be really boring for you," Wolf said sharply, "but I'm actually pretty stressed out right now. Don't you know how long I've been planning this trip? For some of those kids, it'll be their first time leaving Augusta. It took me forever to get permission from the faculty and the church staff. If I make one wrong move, Midvalley could put an end to the whole thing." Wolf threw his hands in the air. "You know what? Forget about it. You're right, it's no big deal. I'll just flunk out of school—"

"What if I go?" Vash asked.

"—and lose my job and let everyone down and…" Wolf glanced over at him. "What did you say?"

"I'll go to the show with Amelia. Meryl and Millie could come along, too."

"Vash. The music is gonna suck."

"So? There'll be alcohol, right?"

"I don't want to babysit you when you come home wasted."

"Then come with us and babysit me at the concert. I'll be the best date in the world to Amelia, and you'll get bonus points for showing up."

Wolf folded his arms. "I don't think Midvalley's gonna buy it. If he sees you there…it might make things worse. He already knows about us. That you're my…you know."

Vash watched him, waiting for a clue. "What?" he asked.

The question seemed to take Wolf by surprise. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then looked away, shoulders hunched. "Nothing. Nevermind."

Something was obviously wrong, but the more Vash prodded him, the more distanced Wolf became. Vash decided to let the subject drop. "You want to go to the refectory with Millie and me? It's taco night."

Wolf shook his head. "I have to finish some homework before class."

"Okay," Vash said reluctantly. He put away his art supplies while Wolf changed clothes, never once meeting his gaze. On the way out, Vash reached for his shoulder, but Wolf stepped out of his grasp without a word.

* * *

The night of the concert was the coldest one yet. Wolf, Vash, Meryl and Millie decided to walk the short distance to the bar off campus. Within minutes, the biting wind numbed their faces and chilled them to the bone. Vash stamped his frozen feet on the ground while Wolf pretended not to shiver.

"I don't get it," Meryl said as she doubled her scarf around her neck. "Wolf's advisor asked two underage kids to go to a bar so Wolf can keep his job?"

"Technically he only asked Amelia," Wolf replied. "But she's the same age as me."

"Couldn't _he_ get fired for that?"

Wolf considered this. "I'd have a hundred Intro to Philosophy students burning me at the stake 'cause they want their free period back. And I'd lose my only referral. So I've got to make some sacrifices."

Vash smirked. Leave it to Wolf to complain about having fun. "When do I get to meet my hot date?" he demanded.

Wolf shot a glare at him. "Amelia is meeting us at the bar. And you'd better be nice to her."

"I'm always nice! I'm a perfect angel. Right, Millie?"

Millie laughed.

"Whatever," Wolf muttered. "Just don't say anything stupid."

Vash saluted him comically, but Wolf didn't seem to take notice. His face was red, and not because of the cold. Not because of finals or lack of sleep, either. Wolf's nerves had been on edge since that conversation they'd had in the dorm room, days ago. He hadn't spoken to Vash much between then and now. Vash couldn't help feeling that it was his fault, though he didn't know why.

When they reached the busy street corner two blocks down, Wolf waved to a bored-looking woman with long auburn hair. She barely cracked a smile in return. "Let's get this over with. I have homework to grade."

"Amelia, these are my friends." Wolf gestured toward them. "Meryl and Millie, the R.A. girls. And…uh, Vash. My…um…"

"Roommate!" Vash broke in. He held out his hand to Amelia. "I also happen to be your charming date."

Amelia glanced at Vash, then back at Wolf. "This night keeps getting better and better," she muttered sarcastically.

They joined the line of people forming on the sidewalk, and Meryl stood on her toes to catch a glimpse of the bar entrance. "Looks like we're screwed," she said doubtfully. "They're carding."

"Don't worry about it," Amelia replied. "Just tell them you're with Midvalley."

Her plan worked. Moments later, they were all inside, short of a few hand stamps.

"How come they stamped your hand?" Wolf said to Vash. "You don't even have an ID."

Vash smiled. "It's because I'm tall."

"Millie can sneak us drinks," Meryl said, but Millie shook her head.

"And risk Mr. Wolfwood's career? Shame on you, Meryl!"

"I'm not going to make it through this show without a beer," Amelia interjected.

Vash gave a theatric bow. "Allow me."

The bar was crowded, but no one seemed interested in the band that was setting up on the stage. A microphone squealed with feedback, and a decidedly uncool voice chuckled through the speakers, "Is this thing on? Hey, we've got a great show lined up for you tonight. Gray the Ninelives on drums, Monev the Gale on keys, and I'm Midvalley the Hornfreak, playing all your favorite Kenny G hits. This first song is going out to a very special lady in the audience…"

Vash glanced across the room at Amelia, who rolled her eyes in response. He winced sympathetically and mouthed _Sorry. _Then Midvalley's saxophone pealed out over the speakers, and Vash could no longer hear himself think.

The music wasn't good. It wasn't even mediocre. If physical pain could be translated into sound waves, Vash decided, it would sound like this.

But as the bartender handed him the drinks he ordered, just when he felt like his ears were starting to bleed, another sound cut through the racket. Quiet and subtle, yet deadly as a scorpion. A voiceless voice.

_It's been a long time, Vash the Stampede._

* * *

The man who spoke without words stood at the far corner of the bar, facing the stage. A slight smile on his lips, eyes obscured by his unnatural hair. Vash stifled the fearful instinct that gripped him. Stay calm. Stay level.

_I don't think I ever caught your name._

The smile wavered. _How disappointing. I expected Knives to have mentioned me by now. Then again, he isn't keen on speaking with you. Why don't you just call me Legato?_

Vash smirked. _That's kind of a stupid name, isn't it?_

Legato folded his arms. _I could say the same about yours._

An exceptionally flat note shrieked from Midvalley's saxophone, and Vash nearly doubled over. But when he looked around the room, nobody else seemed to react. He glared at Legato. _Don't tell me this is your doing, too._

Legato tilted his head and laughed. _I can't take full responsibility. Somebody has to produce the waves. I just twist them to my liking._

Vash raised his eyebrows. _So that's how you get into people's minds? By altering sound waves?_

_ Really, Vash. You're an honor student. You should know it's far more complicated than that. Don't you know what they used to study in July, before you incinerated the research wing? Electromagnetism. Dark matter. The real delicious stuff. Too bad it's nothing but ashes now._

The music had faded to a muffled roar, like noises heard underwater. Like the blood pounding in his ears. _Just tell me what you're doing here._

_ Merely checking to see that your babysitter is doing his job. He's something, isn't he? Changing your bandages and all that. Keeping you distracted from what really matters._

Vash's stomach tightened. _What…what are you…?_

Legato frowned impatiently. _Haven't you solved the puzzle yet?_

_ It didn't tell me anything. It doesn't make sense._

_ Think a little harder. Ask that babysitter of yours. He has his own special talent, you know._

The entire bar had begun to look hazy, distorted. Legato wasn't talking about Wolf, was he? Vash gripped the drinks in his hands until he worried the glass might break. Nothing seemed stable. He felt the piercing onset of a headache from his latest injection.

_Please. _At this point, his thoughts were only desperate. They weren't even directed at Legato. He was pleading with someone else, someone far out of reach. _Quit playing games. I just want the truth._

For a moment, the bar vanished completely. Darkness washed over him, the last murmurs silenced. Vash wondered if he'd fallen asleep. If this was a dream. Until a hand reached out to him, and Legato smiled.

_Then come with me._


	12. Bottom of the Dark

_We met in autumn. It was his last year at St. Michael's, and my first. I hadn't made friends with anyone yet, not even Brother Matthias. So I was surprised when he spoke to me that day outside the sanctuary._

_ "A little young to be smoking cigarettes, aren't you?" The voice was deep enough to belong to a deacon. I dropped the cigarette and shoved the lighter in my pocket before I turned to see a tall boy in a school uniform._

_ He smiled. "Relax. I won't rat you out. I just want to talk."_

_ I stood my ground, tense and suspicious. "Why?"_

_ "Because I saw how you ran out of the building just now. I saw your face."_

_ My cheeks burned, and I hoped he didn't notice. My hands were still a little shaky._

_ The boy leaned closer. "That wasn't the face of a kid cutting Mass. You looked like you were running from something. Or someone." His blue eyes searched mine, far too deeply. "Still do, in fact."_

_ A knot closed up my throat. I took a step back. "I'm not…I'm not feeling well. I'm gonna go b—back to the dorm—"_

_ The boy braced his arm against the wall, blocking my exit in one swift movement. Not a good idea to put up a fight, I decided._

_ "My name's Nigh," the boy said. "And you've got a secret I'd like to know."_

* * *

"Has anyone seen Vash?" Meryl shouted.

Wolf rubbed his temples. Midvalley's band had finally finished their first song, and the noise of the crowd had taken over from the squealing saxophone. A few minutes ago, Wolf had glanced across the room to see Vash standing with a blue-haired guy in a white jacket. The same creep who'd come looking for Vash at the beginning of the semester, Wolf realized with a sharp twist of pain in his stomach. And now they were gone. Wolf gritted his teeth. It wasn't enough that Vash had been acting so weird around him lately, or that he couldn't acknowledge Wolf in public as anything more than an acquaintance. No, he had to play the part of the flirty frat boy, first with Amelia and now with this guy…who even was he? A former "acquaintance" from another school? A jealous ex-whatever?

"He went to buy me a drink a while ago," Amelia said, scanning the bar.

"There was some guy with him," Wolf said bitterly. "Maybe they're catching up."

Meryl squinted in the dim light, standing on her toes. "I don't see him in the crowd."

The worry in her voice made Wolf even angrier with Vash. _Just like him to run off without telling anyone._

Millie squeezed through a barricade of concertgoers on her way back from the restroom. "Meryl? What's wrong?"

"Vash disappeared."

At this, Millie's face turned red. "I just saw him leave through the side door with someone. This person with blue hair…"

Before she could finish, Meryl dashed toward the exit. Millie and Amelia followed hesitantly behind.

Wolf stood in the crowd for a moment, the pain in his stomach worsening. Did he want to know where Vash had gone?

Midvalley made the decision for him. As the band swung into full gear, Wolf elbowed his way to the glowing exit sign at the far end of the bar and pushed through the door into the cold night air.

* * *

A single streetlight hummed in the alleyway. Amelia wandered up and down the street, calling Vash's name. Meryl was arguing with Millie in the small circle of light.

"Why didn't you stop them when you had a chance?"

Millie was nearly in tears. "I tried to call Mr. Vash over, but he—I guess he couldn't hear me—"

"And you didn't think to follow them? Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you have a brain in that head of yours…"

Amelia interrupted their dispute. "Has anyone tried his phone?"

Wolf dialed the number and waited. "It's going straight to voicemail."

"Come on, let's check a few blocks down." Amelia turned to the R.A. girls. "You two can go that way, and Wolf and I will check the other direction. He can't have gone far."

"Vash," Wolf said to the machine, his voice faltering, "get your ass back here before we leave without you." He ended the voicemail and caught up to Amelia, surveying the empty streets.

Out of the starless sky, the first snowflakes of the season began to fall. By the time they'd searched every block around the perimeter of the bar, a thin layer of snow had covered the ground. Wolf and Amelia regrouped with Meryl and Millie, only to see the same discouraged looks mirrored on each other's faces.

"Did you recognize the guy he was with?" Meryl asked Wolf.

Wolf shook his head, holding the truth inside. His initial feelings of bitterness and jealousy were slowly transforming into fear and dread, but he didn't want to acknowledge this change. To acknowledge it would be to admit that he was worried. And he wasn't worried. Not yet.

"Should we call the police?" Millie asked quietly.

Amelia folded her arms. "It's not that serious, is it? He's an adult, not a five-year-old kid."

"Debatable," Meryl muttered.

Wolf wedged his hands deeper in his pockets. The snow was coming down fast. "Maybe we should look inside one more time. If he doesn't show up, I'll just wait for him at home. Amelia's right. Vash is older than all of us, he should be able to take care of himself."

But after wandering the bar for the rest of Midvalley's show, after questioning the bartender and checking every bathroom, after circling the building and glancing at his phone for the hundredth time, Wolf had little faith in his own words.

"I'm sure he'll turn up in the morning," Amelia said, bumping Wolf's arm gently with her fist.

"Yeah." Wolf forced a smile. "Thanks for sticking around."

It was close to midnight when they parted ways. Millie, Meryl, and Wolf walked back to Chapel Hall in silence. Snow continued to pile up, obscuring street from sidewalk. Wolf tried not to think about the cold.

He kept his hopes up as he said goodnight to Meryl and Millie, as he climbed the darkened staircase with his eyes shut tight, until he opened the door to Room 206 and was faced with the emptiness. The absence. The lack thereof.

_Get a grip,_ Wolf admonished himself. _It's not like he hasn't vanished before._

Then he noticed the orange bottle of painkillers on the nightstand, and something occurred to him. He ransacked the desk for the school directory, flipped through the academic departments, and punched a number into his phone.

A prerecorded message played, then a beep. "Professor Luida? It's Wolf. Please pick up, I have something I need to—"

The speaker clicked, and the professor's voice answered, "Quiet." After a pause, she resumed. "I'd rather you didn't call me on the office line, Wolf. It's harder to keep these lines secure."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know how else to reach you."

"We're safe for now. Go ahead."

"Vash went missing a few hours ago. We were at a bar off campus, and he left with someone. I don't…I don't know where he is, I mean I think he's fine, I just…I just felt like I should tell you."

Silence. The speaker clicked again, and the call ended. Wolf stared at the screen. His thumb hovered over the redial button, but Luida's concern about the phone lines made him stop. _Some clear instructions would be nice, once in a while._

He sat on the bed with the phone beside him, and waited for the call that he knew would never come.

* * *

One sleepless hour later, Wolf stood outside the door to Chapel Hall with an unlit cigarette between his lips. The snow had stopped falling. It lay in drifts over the lawn and covered every car in the parking lot. Tomorrow the ground would be pockmarked with footprints, but for now it was untouched perfection. Nature at its most pristine.

The door creaked open behind him, and Wolf jumped.

"Mr. Wolfwood?" Millie peered out of the atrium. "Sorry if I scared you."

He pretended to be reaching for his lighter. "Not at all."

Millie stepped outside and shut the door. She was wrapped in layers, her hair pressed down with earmuffs and her feet tucked into a pair of rubber boots. "Meryl said we should get some rest, but I can't sleep."

"Me neither."

"The snow's really pretty. It makes everything so bright."

Wolf lit the cigarette and breathed in, but even the smoke felt cold. He hugged his arms around his chest. Then he felt a comforting weight on his back, and looked up to see Millie draping her coat over his shoulders. "Don't worry," she said with a smile. "I'm roasting."

The memory came back to him, and he returned her smile. "Thanks," he whispered.

Millie gazed out past the streetlights at the shadowy buildings, the dark tree line. She bit her lip. "I hope Mr. Vash is okay."

"I'm sure he's fine. We'll see him tomorrow."

"Meryl is so upset. She won't talk to me. I don't think she's really asleep."

"You don't need to worry."

"I…I feel like it's my fault. For not going after them. Meryl said what if that guy put something in his drink. What if he got into a car." Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Wolfwood. I could have done something…"

Wolf dropped his cigarette and reached for her hand, shaking his head earnestly. "Millie, no. This isn't your fault. Please don't say that. It's going to be okay." He held onto both of her hands, searching her green eyes helplessly. "Look. We're both awake, we're both too worried to sleep. We might as well stay up. I was thinking about working on my bike tonight, anyway. Do you want to come with me?"

Millie sniffled, nodding hesitantly. Wolf gave her a smile of encouragement and together they stepped out into the snow, forging the first path over the icy white landscape. Millie followed Wolf past the freshman dormitories, cutting through the courtyard to the small shed that hid among the leafless shrubs, and waited as Wolf brushed snow away from the secret entrance, then opened the door and turned on the light.

The single bulb sputtered for a minute or two before it came on. Wolf hadn't been out here in over a month. He pulled a dusty tarp off the bike and braced himself for ridicule. But Millie's face lit up instantly.

"Wow! Mr. Wolfwood, you built this by yourself? It's incredible!"

Wolf blushed. "I just bought the parts and hooked them together."

Millie crouched beside the bike to get a closer look. "A lawnmower engine, right?"

"Yeah. It's pretty loud."

"Can I try it out?"

Wolf laughed nervously. "You'd wake the whole campus! Besides, the engine quit working a while ago. I haven't had time to fix it."

"Well, let's take a look." Millie rolled up her sleeves. "Did you check the carburetor?"

"I checked the fuel line and the spark plug, but I can't find the right socket wrench…"

Wolf sat down beside her, and they went to work. It felt good to put his mind to simple tasks again. Millie's expertise was astounding, and by the end of the night they'd disassembled, cleaned, and rebuilt the engine with a few small upgrades. When they pulled the ripcord and the engine roared to life, Wolf jumped in the air and Millie cheered. They shared a grease-spattered high five before turning the kill switch and laughing like two kids who'd just gotten away with a perfectly staged prank.

"You're amazing," Wolf said to Millie, shaking his head. "You ought to be a mechanic."

Millie shrugged bashfully. "I was going to be an engineer. That's what my parents wanted. But I'd rather get my contracting degree and start a business with Meryl. Even if it means less money, I know we're going to help so many others. And that matters more than money to me. Not a lot of people understand that."

Wolf thought about Amelia's third grade class, about the mentor program, about Shepherd. "I do," he said. And for the first time that semester, he knew there was something that he wanted to accomplish with his life.

Millie toweled off her oil-stained hands and handed the rag to Wolf. "We should probably head back. I want to check on Meryl."

Wolf nodded, cleaning his hands and replacing the tarp over his bike. He hadn't realized how warm and comfortable the shed had become. When they stepped outside, the air struck them with a harsh reminder of the cold.

Overhead, the sky was lit with a pale gray glow. Millie yawned and stretched as they trudged through the snow, eager to get inside. "I can't believe it's morning already. Good thing it's a Saturday…"

She turned around when she noticed that Wolf had stopped walking. He was still standing by the shed with a strange look on his face. "Saturday?" he echoed faintly.

"Mr. Wolfwood? What's wrong?"

He stood motionless for a moment, then ducked his head and laughed. "Nothing. It's just…Saturday. I forgot. I'm twenty years old." He laughed harder, shielding his face with his hand. "Happy birthday to me."

Millie watched him, confused at first. Wolf's shoulders tensed up and his laughter sounded muddled. Tears slipped between his fingers.

"How the hell could I let this happen?"

He sank down into the snow before Millie could react. She reached for his shoulder with a careful hand. "Wolf…"

"You weren't the only one who s—saw them, Millie. I watched Vash leave with that guy, and I let him go. I d—didn't want him to come back…"

Wolf couldn't catch his breath enough to speak anymore. The snow soaked through his clothes until his skin was numb, but he didn't want to move. Millie curled one arm around him, then the other. His tears dampened the soft scarf around her neck.

"Come on," Millie said at last, easing Wolf to his feet. "Let's get out of the cold."

They were halfway back to the dorm when Wolf caught sight of something in the distance. A figure moving toward them with halting steps. Dimly lit, far away, but unmistakable.

Wolf began to run. When Millie saw the figure, she ran too.

"Mr. Vash!"

He wandered slowly across the empty field of snow, looking around as if he were lost. His eyes didn't seem to register their faces. Wolf caught up to him, lungs burning. "Vash," he breathed. "Thank God."

Vash blinked a few times. "Wolf?" he said quietly. "Millie?"

"We were so scared!" Millie threw her arms around him, then paused. "Mr. Vash, you're shaking."

"What am I," Vash mumbled, and Wolf noticed the sweat on his face.

"How long have you been outside?" Wolf asked. He grasped at Vash's hands. Frozen and trembling.

"What am I…what am I…"

Millie unwound her scarf and swept it over Vash's shoulders. "We need to get you someplace warm."

Vash staggered backward, out of their reach. He stared at them with wide, darting eyes. Frightened. Distrustful. But most of all, confused.

"What am I doing here?"

* * *

"You really don't remember anything?"

They were back in Room 206. Vash stood beside the space heater, wrapped in blankets. Wolf sat on the bed, watching him.

"Nothing at all?"

Vash gazed out the window at the cloudy dawn. "We were at a bar."

"Someone walked out with you. And Vash, I never told you about this, but…I saw him once before. He came here looking for you. A guy with blue hair."

At this, Vash's eyes flicked over to Wolf, but he said nothing.

"Did he take you somewhere?" Wolf asked, clenching the bed sheet in his fists. "Did you…did you drink anything?"

"I don't know. I don't remember."

Wolf shut his eyes. _This isn't good. What do you do if someone loses their memory?_ _Is that when you call the police?_

"Um…Wolf…" Vash touched his face gingerly, and winced. "Why was Meryl so angry with me?"

Moments earlier, they'd walked into Chapel Hall to find Meryl waiting in the atrium. She was half asleep at the desk, but as soon as she saw Vash, her eyes snapped open and she marched toward them, tears welling in her eyes. Then she slapped Vash's face. Over and over, until Millie grabbed her arms and yelled at her to stop. Meryl was still crying as Millie led her downstairs to their room, whispering to her in calming tones.

Wolf said, "You were gone for a long time." His voice broke on the last word.

"Oh." Vash looked out the window again. "Are you mad at me, too?"

A long pause. "I'll be mad later. When I'm not so scared." He stood up and faced Vash. "Have you warmed up yet?"

Vash nodded. Wolf unwrapped the blanket from his shoulders and reached for his hands, but Vash flinched at the touch. Wolf let go, exhaling shakily.

"Okay. I think we should go to the hospital."

"No," Vash replied quickly.

"Yes."

"No! Wolf, don't. I'm not going."

"Then let me see if you're hurt! God, Vash, what if something really bad happened? Would you tell me then? Or just lie and pretend like you can't remember anything? Because if you're lying, I swear to God—" Wolf braced his head in his hands and forced himself to breathe. No, Vash wasn't lying. He knew that face too well to doubt it. And that meant they needed help. "At least tell me how we can find Professor Luida."

Vash looked at Wolf curiously. Then he froze. "Luida…" His lips formed her name, but no sound came out.

"Hello?" Wolf passed a hand over Vash's vacant eyes. "Earth to Vash? Can you tell me how to—_hey!_"

Vash stumbled out the door, blankets tangling around his feet. He nearly tripped before escaping down the hall toward the stairwell.

"Wait up!" Wolf vaulted over the pile of discarded blankets and set off in pursuit. "Where are you going?"

Down the stairs, through the atrium, out into the cold. Wolf was no match for Vash's speed. He coughed raggedly as he pushed through the door, following the blur of motion that Vash had become.

A sound like thunder shook the sidewalk, and Wolf fell on his hands and knees. Up ahead, as if in slow motion, he watched a plume of smoke unfurl into the sky. Another explosion, louder this time, sent flames bursting out of the windows of the brick building. It was partially obscured by the trees, but even from this distance Wolf could make out the words etched over the shattered glass doors: _Pharmaceutical Research Facility._

It didn't register. Not until the fire alarms began to wail. Not until he heard Vash screaming.

Wolf raced after him. "Vash _no! _Get away from there!"

His voice was lost in the piercing noise, in the furnace wind. He gave up shouting and used every last shred of energy to run faster. To do the impossible. To beat him.

As soon as he was within a few strides, Wolf leaped forward and tackled Vash to the ground. The rough landing sent a jolt up his spine. "What the hell are you thinking, Spiky?" Wolf yelled.

He received an elbow to the nose in reply. Before Vash could wriggle free, Wolf regained his grip and locked both arms around Vash's waist. "I'm not letting go."

"_She's in there, Wolf!_"

The pain in Vash's screams hurt worse than Wolf's bruised nose. A voice was blaring over the loudspeakers with instructions for a lockdown. People had begun to file out of the surrounding buildings with their faces covered.

"We have to go back to the dorm," Wolf urged him.

"_Don't do this to me!_ _Don't do this again!_" Vash was clawing at thin air, sobbing. As if Wolf was no longer there.

"Listen to me!" Wolf begged. Nothing worked. Sirens flashed in the growing haze. With Vash's cries ringing in his ears, Wolf lifted his friend's body onto his back and carried him toward Chapel Hall.

"You owe me for this," Wolf groaned, but he doubted that Vash heard him.

* * *

Hours passed in the dark basement of Chapel Hall. Students from the floors above were huddled in the chilly shelter, but despite the crowd, the vast room was eerily quiet. A few fluorescent lights cast a sickly sheen over the ancient stonework. _This place used to be a cellar,_ Wolf thought. But he couldn't shake the image of the catacombs he'd read about in history books. He tried not to look into the darkest corners.

Vash was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his arms. Now and then, a faint whimpering sound betrayed the fact that he hadn't stopped crying.

"They said no one was inside the building," Wolf reassured him for the tenth time. "It was probably an electrical fire that caused an explosion when it reached the lab. Nobody would have been there that early."

He neglected to tell Vash about the phone call he'd made to Professor Luida's office in that very building, at midnight, when nobody should have been there. A detail that troubled him more and more as time dragged on.

Wolf looked to Millie for her usual words of encouragement, but she had dozed off with Meryl asleep in her lap. Seeing their peaceful faces reminded Wolf how exhausted he had become. How many weeks had he gone without a full night's sleep? He wished he could relax long enough to shut his eyes. Or at least smoke a cigarette.

He leaned back against the cold wall. As an involuntary shiver shook his frame and he rubbed his arms to no avail, Wolf realized how lonely he was. How much he missed Vash's arms around him at night. How much he missed smiling and laughing and being wanted. How, even with Vash beside him, close enough to touch, he felt like an outsider in his own relationship. If he could call it a relationship anymore. Vash seemed more like a stranger than a friend or a roommate or whatever Wolf might have dared to call him once before. And with a growing sense of dread, Wolf found himself numbering the ways that Vash had taken a toll on his everyday life.

_But I can handle it,_ Wolf thought. _I've made it this far._

Another voice replied, _And look how much good you've done._

Wolf turned to see Vash rocking slowly back and forth.

"I'm sure Professor Luida is somewhere safe," Wolf said. "And they'll let us out of here soon. Everything will be okay."

Vash started to bang his forehead against his knees, and Wolf reached for his face to stop him. "For God's sake, Vash—"

"Don't touch me!" Vash shoved him so hard that Wolf bit his tongue. Vash stared at him for a moment with tearful eyes, then buried his face again. "Leave me alone."

Wolf sat there with the taste of blood in his mouth, with the bruise on his nose from earlier, with the memory of every scratch and bump and black eye he'd received as a reward for trying to help someone who'd never wanted his help in the first place. He wiped his lip and looked straight ahead, past the curious eyes of the other students, into the shadowy depths of the cellar.

"I'm leaving on my trip tomorrow with the kids," Wolf said. "When I get back, I'm going to ask Meryl about switching to a different dorm for next semester."

Vash said nothing in reply.


	13. Sin

_I made a new friend today. He's different from me, in a lot of ways. I don't know if I should trust him. Nigh always said that I trusted people too easily. But there's something about him that makes me think it's safe. And I want to. It's just…I can't. I think the person that I no longer trust…is myself._

_ Rem…sometimes I wonder if I…if we…maybe, we…should never have been born._

* * *

Cold night air stirred the curtains and ruffled Vash's hair. The feeling sent shivers down the back of his neck, but he remained sitting with his back to the window, watching the door.

The task of clearing the building had proven surprisingly easy. After Wolf left on his trip, after the other students went home for the holiday break, after Meryl and Millie drove off to visit their families, Chapel Hall was empty except for Vash and one miserable R.A. It only took a pack of Wolf's cigarettes and the promise of secrecy to convince the boy to go home, leaving Vash in charge.

He'd locked all the doors, knowing that his visitor would have no need for keys. There was no point in keeping him out. What mattered was that no one else could come in.

_Nothing left now but to wait._ Vash let his gaze fall to the sheet of paper on the floor in front of him. He picked up the brush and dipped it in the open bottle of ink. Then trailed the brush slowly across the paper's surface. In one continuous line, he traced the profile of a face like his own. And another just like it, but reversed. The silhouettes swam together, separated only by their values. Positive and negative.

He thought, _I wonder which one I am?_

A scratching sound at the windowsill made Vash turn his head. Two yellow eyes emerged from the darkness, followed by a soft meow.

Vash relaxed. "You're looking for Wolf, huh?" He smiled slightly. "Sorry. It's just me."

He raised his hand to pet the cat, but Neko hissed and swiped a paw at him, claws catching his skin.

Blood beaded on Vash's knuckles, and he felt a twinge of pain in his chest. "Go on, get out of here!" he yelled at Neko. "Scram!"

The cat turned up its nose resentfully, then leapt away by whatever mysterious route it had entered. Soon there was nothing but the dark and the cold and the silence once more.

A few moments later, Vash heard the doorknob turn and click. He reached for his brush and returned to the drawing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door open. Felt the presence of another person. The brush trembled in his hand.

"Well, brother?" the shadow asked. "Aren't you going to say hello?"

* * *

A drop of blood trickled from the scratch on Vash's hand, staining the white part of the paper. He hadn't seen Nigh in the better part of a year. How much had he changed since then?

"I see you've taken up a new hobby." The figure stepped closer, nudging Vash's drawing with the toe of one shoe. "What do you call that, Vash? Abstract nihilism?"

When Vash failed to respond, the voice took a quieter tone. "Come on. The least you could do is look at me."

Reluctantly, Vash lifted his head. The leather shoes and tailored clothes were spotless as ever. There was a new watch on his wrist, but it didn't seem to fit well. Too loose, though Vash noticed the band was tightened as far as it would go. The collar of his shirt was loose, as well.

Vash could hardly bring himself to look at his brother's face. A normal person wouldn't think twice about those creases on his forehead or the thinning hair on his scalp. A normal person wouldn't notice the sharpness of his cheekbones or the faint pallor of his skin. But Vash wasn't a normal person.

He turned away before he could catch a glimpse of his eyes.

"Hell," Nigh laughed bitterly. "You still look like a fifteen-year-old brat. I could've sworn we were twins, once."

Vash said nothing.

"Taking a vow of silence?" Nigh began to pace the room, examining furniture, thumbing through folders on the desk. "That's unexpected. Then again, this place used to be a monastery."

He stopped at the bedside, looking up at the wall. "How fitting." He reached a hand toward Wolf's cross.

"Don't touch that."

An amused smile broke out on Nigh's face. "Never took you for a religious man. Did he convert you already?"

Vash clenched his jaw and stared down at the drawing. Nigh ran a finger over the nightstand, lifting the name badge from Augusta Elementary that Wolf had left behind. "And how _is_ the little choir boy these days? Nothing like the st—st—stuttering street urchin I met at St. Michael's, surely. Doubt if I'd recognize him anymore."

Nigh flicked the name badge into the wastebasket. Vash gritted his teeth and muttered, "He's gone."

His brother knelt down so that their eyes were level. Vash could feel those piercing eyes cutting into him, laying him bare like a corpse on a dissection table. "You're always so readable, Vash. So predictable. It's that weakness of yours, for those people. Why do you insist on protecting them?"

Nigh gripped Vash's chin to keep him from looking away. "We aren't like them, you and I. We aren't even human. They made us to satisfy a scientific interest. To fulfill a basic human desire. To act like gods. And in so doing, they accomplished something they never intended. For the first time in history, humanity succeeded in creating God."

Vash met his brother's eyes at last. A paler blue than his, bloodshot and watery, but sharp as a hawk's. "Nigh," he whispered, "what have you done to yourself?"

The solemn face twisted in anger. "I told you never to use that name again." He seized Vash's wrist. "And who are you to ask me that question? Look at what they've done to you!" He pushed up the sleeve of Vash's jacket, revealing the bruised and discolored injection site. "Those self-proclaimed doctors have pumped so many different drugs into your veins that you can't tell right from left! Your brain is so fucked that you don't know whether your dreaming or awake! Is this reality, Vash? Can you really be sure?"

A seed of fear opened in his heart and took root. Vash trembled as his brother raised the other sleeve.

"And this. You know, I'd hoped there would be fewer scars this time. I thought if the Catholic schoolboy was good for anything, at least he might save you from _that._ Can't say I'm surprised. They all hurt you sooner or later, don't they? And instead of turning on them, you turn on yourself. That's what I've never understood." For a moment, the piercing eyes went soft. Then the grip on his left arm tightened, until Vash almost cried out.

"Don't you remember anything? Hasn't it come back to you yet? July? May City? Octovern State College? This arm is the only part of you that's ever done anything right! But you keep blocking it out. You keep punishing yourself. Open your eyes, Vash. Remember where you went that night."

An image of streetlights and snow flashed through his mind. Vash squeezed his eyes shut. "No," he murmured.

_Remember where you went._

Sidewalks and trees. A glass door.

_Remember what you did._

A match in his left hand, flickering.

"No," Vash said, louder. "No, no, no, no."

_Bang, _said Professor Luida as the explosion engulfed the laboratory. _Bang, _said Dr. Conrad as the trigger sent the bullet to his brain. _Bang, _said the man on the bathroom floor, facedown in a pool of blood.

"I don't blame you," the man who called himself Knives continued. "After all, you've always been trying to protect me. I can never truly repay you. Conrad would have strung me up like one of his prototypes, kept my brain in a jar like he did with our sister. Luida wanted to inject me with her mind-numbing poison so I wouldn't run from her anymore. But you've stood in my place for so long. Endured their experiments on my behalf. It's made you so angry, hasn't it? It's made you do some very bad things. To tell the truth, I'm worried about what you might do next."

_Bang,_ said Meryl, smiling and holding a shot glass. _Bang, _said Wolf and Millie, pointing to Vash's outstretched arm, his left hand forming the shape of a gun. _Bang, bang, bang._

"You're a dangerous man, Vash the Stampede."

"_Stop it!_" Vash yelled, wrenching his arm free and covering his ears.

"Stop what?" Knives replied. "I'm trying to help you."

"I don't believe you! You're lying!"

His brother's face revealed pity, concern. "But you remember now, don't you?"

Tears slid out of Vash's eyes. He was breathing too fast. "It's not real," he choked, pressing his palms against his face. Then he felt a hand on his head. He jumped, but the touch was surprisingly gentle.

"Oh, Vash. I'm so sorry." The hand smoothed his hair. It was supposed to be comforting, but it made Vash shiver. "I wasn't thinking. This is a shock for you. I didn't realize…how much you've forgotten."

After a moment, his brother lowered his hand and stood up. "I learned a lot about humans while we were separated. Honestly, I thought leaving you was for the best. How could we ever lead normal lives if we were constantly relying on each other, constantly reminded of our differences? I thought I wanted to become like them. I studied their behaviors and beliefs. But everything I found…everyone I met…disproved my theory that there was anything good in this world. They'd captured you before I could realize it. Those people, who you trusted with all your heart, wanted nothing more than to control you. To manipulate you. I tried to send messages, to warn you what was happening. And then you figured them out. And you did something that I never could do." He smiled sadly, looking down at Vash's left arm. "You passed judgment. With the hand of God."

Wind pushed through the curtains and filled the room with its frozen breath, but Vash's skin felt feverishly hot. His heart pounded so hard that he could feel the pulse in every vessel of his arm. He dug his nails into the floorboards. Just when his brother turned toward the door, Vash spoke.

"Knives. Answer one question for me." He raised his head. "Our sister. Tesla. You've…seen her?"

The smile returned. Knives waved his hand as a farewell. "When you're ready to leave them, I'll show her to you."

He exited through the hallway, letting the door shut behind him.

Vash sat in the cold room with his arms limp at his sides. He hadn't moved. His brother was gone.

The voices crept in one by one.

_Is this reality? Can you really be sure?_

_ This is not a child you are looking at, Ms. Saverem, it is a test subject._

_ Shoot him, Vash! Just pull the trigger!_

_ Have you remembered anything about July?_

_ You're a dangerous man, Vash the Stampede._

_ Red is the color of life._

He picked up the drawing. The paper shook in his hands. "Which one am I?" he asked the silence, his voice straining against the soreness in his throat, the hammering in his chest. "Which one am I?"


	14. Your Hand in Mine

_I made a decision last night. Finally, I know what I want to do. Talking to Millie made me realize something. The only time I've ever felt really, truly happy…it's when I'm with these kids. The ones who have nothing. The ones who have no one. I can be the person who was never there for me, the person I always needed. I can protect them. When they smile at me, I feel like I've done something right. And I think there's hope._

_ Still, there are times when I look into their eyes and I see the pain I felt so long ago. The pain I feel to this day. That hurts. Because no matter how hard I try to stop it, there is so much evil in this world. And I have a hard time believing in you. I think to myself, there's no place worse than this planet._

_ It's horrible here._

* * *

Sleet pelleted the windows of the bus on the way back to Augusta. It was late, and most of the children had been lulled to sleep by the rumbling engine and the warmth of the heater. Wolf watched the icy rain glitter in the dark and run down the glass panes in tiny rivulets. One of the youngest girls was asleep in his lap, and Shepherd was leaning against his shoulder, trying to stay awake.

"Almost home," Wolf told him with a tired smile. Shepherd nodded solemnly, and Wolf wondered if _home_ was a good word or a bad one. When he was Shepherd's age, home was the last place he wanted to be. But he'd met the boy's foster parents once or twice, and though they had a difficult time understanding his silence, they seemed like decent people. Shepherd never shied away from adults the way that Wolf remembered doing. In fact, he was fearless. Over the course of the week, Shepherd had been first in line whenever they went skiing or hiking or snowboarding. And Wolf had seen him stand up to the bullies who made fun of him or teased the younger kids. In many ways, Shepherd's silence was stronger than mere words could ever be.

The bus crawled to a stop, and the blast of exhaust from the engine stirred the passengers awake. Wolf looked down at the little girl, whose eyes snapped open at once. Murmuring voices and yawns filled the heavy air, and a chaperone stood up. "Everyone, wait your turn to file out of the bus. One row at a time—"

The little girl scrambled down from Wolf's lap and squeezed past Shepherd's knees, running for the door. "Jasmine, wait!" Wolf yelled.

He was too slow. Jasmine slipped on the wet floor and fell down two steps. Wolf cursed himself as he pushed through the aisle and Jasmine started to wail. But someone else reached her first.

Shepherd kneeled beside the girl and lifted her carefully in his arms. She cried for a few moments, but her tears soon subsided as she clung to Shepherd's neck and another chaperone checked her knees for scrapes. Wolf watched the exchange with a mixture of amazement, embarrassment, and pride. After they exited the bus, he approached the woman who'd bandaged Jasmine's knee and thanked her.

"I'm sorry," he said, lowering his head. "That was my fault."

The chaperone smiled and pointed at Shepherd, who was walking hand in hand with the little girl. "He's changed so much since you came. Last year, Shepherd wouldn't even play with the other children. And now look. He's already got her laughing again."

Wolf couldn't help smiling as they walked back to the church, umbrellas raised against the battering sleet. The winter air was treacherous, but it didn't seem like much compared to the warmth in his heart. And yet, there was another feeling there, too. The slightest sting in the midst of his happiness. He couldn't quite place what it was. Not until Shepherd's foster parents arrived and he ran to hug them. Not until they got into the car and drove home without looking back to wave goodbye.

That's when Wolf thought, _He won't need me for much longer._

* * *

The door to Chapel Hall had been left open.

Wolf stood for a moment in the rainy wind, peering into the dark atrium. There was supposed to be an R.A. on duty for the break, wasn't there? _Maybe they forgot to lock up before they went to sleep,_ Wolf thought. In this wind, even a heavy wooden door could be moved…couldn't it?

He took a deep breath and stepped inside. The air in the building seemed somehow colder than the air outside. Wolf flicked his phone screen on and held it in front of him like a flashlight. The feeble blue glow lit a path to the staircase. Wolf hesitated before going up. He could hear their whispers in the empty hallway. The cobweb touch of their hands.

Wolf shut his eyes briefly, summoning Shepherd's quiet courage. "Let me go," he said.

The whispers died down. Wolf climbed the stairs with cautious steps. _How many days until the spring semester, again?_

When he reached the second floor, another sound startled him. Muffled and indistinct, but human. Wolf's heart skipped a beat. He felt his way down the hall toward his room, the noise growing clearer. _That's the sound a person makes when they're hurt._

"Vash?" Wolf tried the door, but it was locked. He pounded on the door with one hand as he searched for his key with the other. "Why'd you lock yourself in there? Come on, let me in."

The voice that replied was ragged and weak. "Stay out!"

Wolf fumbled with the key and dropped it. He could hear Vash gasping for breath, as if he'd been sobbing. "It's me. It's Wolf." He found the key and tried again. "I'm coming inside—"

"_I don't want you here!_"

The words hurt. Wolf paused, but he couldn't turn back. His adrenaline was kicking in. _Something happened here. Something bad._ He pushed on the door, but it resisted. Vash had braced it with something heavy.

"Stay back, okay?" Wolf hollered, ignoring the cries of protest from the other side. Then he slammed his shoulder into the door with all his might, once, twice, three times. On the fourth try, the door gave. There was a terrible crash as the desk turned over and fell on the floor.

"Vash?" Wolf stepped over the legs of the desk, feeling for the light switch. A gust of wind blew through the open window, scattering fallen papers and spattering the floor with rain. There was broken glass everywhere. And when Wolf flipped the switch and nothing happened, he realized what it was. Vash had broken every lightbulb in the room.

A small voice came from the corner behind the bed. "It's not safe for you to be here."

Wolf followed the voice, glass crunching under his shoes. "Where are you, Spiky? What the hell happened in here?"

"I'm not…who you think I am…"

Something dark was pooling on the floorboards. Wolf crouched down and squinted at it, his eyes adjusting to the shadows. An upturned bottle lay nearby. _Ink…?_

Then Wolf saw him. Hunched in the corner with the bedsheets wrapped around him, smaller than he'd ever looked before.

"Please go away," Vash whispered.

Wolf inched closer, the way he might approach an injured animal. Vash's hair looked black and splotchy, as if he'd made a failed attempt to dye it with the ink. Black drops spotted the sheet around his shoulders.

"Vash," Wolf began anxiously. "Can we talk?"

"Not safe," Vash mumbled, shaking his head slowly. "Not safe…"

His face was obscured by his mess of hair, but Wolf was looking at something else. Another dark blotch was soaking through the sheet, on the left side of Vash's body.

"Oh, God." Wolf's throat tightened as he reached for the corner of the sheet. "Why, Vash? What…"

Vash shrank back against the wall, but he did nothing to stop Wolf from unwinding the bedsheet. When Wolf peeled the fabric away from his left arm, Vash made a terrible whimpering sound.

The smell of blood was so strong that Wolf dropped the sheet and covered his mouth. Vash's forearm was mangled beyond recognition. His hand was curled into a misshapen fist, the knuckles torn open, the fingers swollen. There were so many cuts that Wolf couldn't see an inch of unbroken skin. And the bones of his arm looked wrong, somehow. Like they'd been forced out of place.

"What did you do?" Wolf heard himself repeating. "What did you do?" His hands shook. He was afraid to touch him. Vash was just…sitting there. And it dawned on Wolf that Vash hadn't hit him yet. He hadn't even tried to hide his arm. There could only be one reason for that. Vash was too weak to move a muscle.

Wolf pushed the hair back from Vash's face, desperate to see his eyes. "When did it happen?" Wolf asked. "How long have you been like this? Vash? Can you hear me?"

Vash wouldn't respond. His eyes were sealed shut. How much blood had he lost? How much energy had he just wasted, screaming at Wolf?

_Why did I let this happen?_

"Damn it," Wolf muttered, scrubbing his sleeve over his eyes and dialing the number on his phone. "Hang on, Spiky. Just hang on."

* * *

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when the nurse said his name, Wolf opened his eyes to see slats of sunlight coming through the blinds of the hospital windows.

"Mr. Wolfwood? The doctor would like to speak with you."

Wolf stood up groggily, stifling a yawn and straightening his back. "Is he okay?"

"We'd just like to have a word. You can come in the room with us."

He glanced at the clock as he followed the nurse down the hall. Six in the morning. "Did Vash wake up yet?"

The nurse didn't answer. Wolf's pulse sped up as they walked toward the door. From the moment Vash was loaded onto a stretcher and driven away in an ambulance, Wolf had not been allowed to see him. His bike had run out of gas on the way to the hospital and he'd pedaled the rest of the way, exhausted and scared. He'd been waiting in this hallway for hours. Now the thought of what awaited him behind the door filled him with dread.

As soon as Wolf heard the steady beep of the heart monitor, he breathed a sigh of relief. There were several people in the room that held Vash. Wolf tried to catch a glimpse of the body on the table behind them. An IV drip, an oxygen tube. When he saw the freckle under one closed eyelid, Wolf felt like crying. "What happened?" he asked. "Why isn't he awake?"

"Young man." The doctor stepped forward. "Your friend is in critical condition. His arm was very badly broken, and he lost a lot of blood."

"But—but you can fix that. That's something you can fix."

"This fracture appears to have gone untreated for several days." The doctor indicated an x-ray image on the chart beside them. "Along with multiple lacerations that appear to be self-inflicted. The bones in his left hand and wrist are broken in a way that suggests repeated trauma. This patient suffered a great deal of pain." He gave Wolf a stern look. "Do you know how this happened?"

"N—no." Wolf gripped his hands into fists. "I wasn't there."

"Your friend's injuries are healing poorly," the doctor continued. "Abnormally so. And I'm afraid the fracture in his arm has led to an infection of the bone."

Wolf stared at him, unable to process what he was being told. "What does that mean?" he asked quietly.

"At this stage, it means that we have no choice but to remove the arm."

The doctor watched him for a response, but Wolf didn't react. Not at first. Then, after a long pause, Wolf began to laugh. "Goddamn it, Spiky. You've really done it this time."

"Young man," the doctor said, "please try to understand—"

"Did you hear that, dumbass?" Wolf yelled at Vash's unconscious body. "Are you satisfied?"

A nurse took hold of his arm. "Sir, you're causing a disturbance. We're going to have to escort you—"

"Jesus Christ!" Wolf screamed. "Hand me a goddamn saw and I'll cut it off myself!" He lunged toward the table as several people fought to hold him back. Wolf kept screaming as they dragged him to the door. "I know you can hear me, Vash! Stop fucking around and wake up already!" He swung his fist in a wild arc, knocking over a tray of surgical tools and punching a sizable hole in the drywall. "_Wake up!_"

They hauled him out of the room, kicking and cursing, until another team of nurses took over and administered a sedative to calm him down. As the drug set in, Wolf realized that his face was wet with tears.

* * *

Meryl and Millie came to visit on the second day. Wolf had spent the night on a couch in the waiting room. When he saw the R.A. girls step off the elevator, Wolf sprang to his feet and ran to meet them. Meryl offered a timid smile, and Millie hugged him tightly.

"Thanks for calling us," Meryl said.

"Is Mr. Vash okay?" Millie asked.

Wolf burrowed his hands into his pockets. "He came out of surgery, but he's still under anesthesia. They won't let me see him yet." He looked up from the floor and noticed that Meryl was holding a gift-wrapped box.

"We brought you some Christmas presents," Meryl said.

"What?" Wolf creased his forehead. "But it's not…I mean…what day is it?"

"Christmas Eve," Millie said with a smile.

Wolf blinked his eyes, the pressure rising in his lungs. Then he hung his head. "I'm so sorry. You both drove all the way back here to see him, and…"

"We wanted to see you, too," Meryl said softly.

"But what about your families?"

"They'll be there when we drive home tonight."

"Mr. Vash and Mr. Wolfwood are part of our family, too," Millie chimed in.

Wolf pulled them both into an embrace. He wanted to thank them, but suddenly words seemed so insufficient. Instead he held onto them as if his life depended on it.

"We have the whole day to spend together," Meryl said. "Let's go get something to eat and find some dumb toy in the gift shop for when Vash wakes up."

Wolf snorted a laugh. They took a walk to the vending machines and bought hot chocolate, then ate lunch in the cafeteria. Meryl explored the gift shop and returned with a stuffed cat that looked like Neko. Millie urged Wolf to open his present, and he unwrapped the paper to find a set of clean clothes. "We figured you might have forgotten to bring a change of clothes," Millie explained. "They're my little big brother's, so I think they'll fit you. We brought some for Mr. Vash, too, and there's a box of doughnuts from Meryl."

He stared at their gifts with an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. _At times like this, why is it so hard to speak? _Wolf put his face in his hands. _Why do I feel so guilty when people are kind to me?_

"I wish…I wish I had something nice for both of you," Wolf said. "But I don't know what I could give you that would matter…as much as this matters to me. The two of you being here. I don't know what to say." He sniffed and looked up at them. "Merry Christmas, Meryl. Merry Christmas, Millie. Thank you…thank you…for everything."

Meryl squeezed his hand, and Millie smiled. "Merry Christmas, Wolf."

* * *

On the third day, the nursing staff let Wolf into Vash's room. He sat beside the bed, watching Vash's chest rise and fall, watching his eyes for any sign of movement. The left arm was gone, amputated above the elbow, wrapped in bandages and secured with a sling. The doctor told Wolf that the healing process was taking longer than expected. After spending a few days with no more outbursts, the staff decided that Wolf could be trusted alone in the room. They taught him how to change the dressings on Vash's arm, which frightened him at first but soon became routine. Wolf tucked the plush Neko under Vash's good arm and slept in the chair with his head on the mattress beside him.

And on the sixth day, Vash opened his eyes.

Wolf was still dreaming when he felt the twitch of Vash's hand in his. Shaken from sleep, he lifted his head to see two blue eyes gazing up at the ceiling.

"Vash. Can you hear me?"

The eyes blinked and darted around, then came into focus. "Wolf," Vash whispered.

A smile broke across Wolf's face. "How do you feel?"

Vash turned his chin slowly, trying to make sense of where they were. "It was so bright," he mumbled. He continued to look around the room, until his eyes came to rest on Wolf again. "What happened…to your hand?"

Wolf followed Vash's gaze to the bandage on his hand. "I, um…I kind of lost my temper." He pointed to the crater in the wall. "They made me spend a day in the psychiatric ward."

Vash smiled curiously, as if he wanted to laugh but didn't understand the joke. Then the smile faded. "I had a bad dream."

Wolf bit his lip. He averted his eyes. "Yeah, me too."

"I think…I hurt…someone."

Wolf's stomach turned. Something seemed to register on Vash's face, and he moved his head to look down at the place where his left arm used to be.

"Vash…there's something we need to…"

"My arm is gone," Vash said.

The abrupt statement took Wolf off guard. He paused for a moment, unsure of what to say. Then he replied, "Yeah. You bullied it so much that it finally ran away."

Vash stared at him. "Oh." After a long time, he asked, "Are you okay, Wolf? You don't look well."

Wolf stood up, fighting the sick feeling in his throat. "I'm fine. I'm just going to go tell the nurse that you're awake." _Damn it, Spiky._

"Did I hurt you, Wolf?"

_Stop worrying about me._ "I'll be back soon."

He closed the door and ran to find the nurse, but even now he could hear the heart monitor speeding up, could hear Vash crying like a child who'd just realized he was lost and didn't know who to call for.


	15. Between the Snow and the Sky

_At Octovern State, they called me Vash the Stampede. In May City, they called me the human hurricane. I wish I could remember why. All I know is that the buildings that once housed my friends have been reduced to rubble and ash. Rumors linked me to the destruction. Wherever I go, disaster seems to follow. And that's why it's better if I don't get close to anyone._

_ If I don't care about them, maybe they won't get hurt._

* * *

"Vash? Can you do something for me? I'd like you to use your right hand to lift your left arm, very slowly."

_You let yourself get too close again._

"Can you do that, Vash?"

_People got hurt because of you._

"Very good. Now, raise it slowly."

_People are dead because of you._

"One more stretch. Then let's try it without the right hand."

A sharp intake of breath, and Vash froze. "I can feel it."

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

His therapist nodded. "Phantom sensation is common among amputees. We can do some exercises to help with that. I want you to let me know if it starts hurting, though."

"Okay."

"Let's do another motion. Try shrugging your shoulders."

This room was bigger than the last one. It had windows that let in the afternoon sunlight. Vash shared the room with another patient.

"…nine, ten. Good. Now bring your shoulders down, as low as you can."

He glanced over at the bed next to his. The girl with the broken leg was watching him again. As soon as they made eye contact, she looked away.

"Excellent. That's enough for today. If you feel up to it, you can do another set of repetitions later this evening. And remember to take the medication if you're having trouble sleeping. Your doctor will have the necessary dosage."

_Maybe this time you won't wake the whole damn ward._

"Thank you," Vash murmured. "I'm sorry."

"It's normal to feel what you're feeling. Healing is a process. It takes time."

_Healing and feeling. Feeling and healing. Sounds like the kind of bullshit Rem used to tell us._

Vash put his hands over his ears as the door opened and closed.

_No, stupid. Only one hand, remember?_

"Shut up," Vash whispered.

_Careful. Don't want to scare the kid._

He lowered his hand and readjusted the compression sock over his left arm. Then he leaned back on the pillow and pulled the covers up to his chin. Sunlight patterns danced on the wall. Time shimmered at the edges, like a mirage.

The doctor came in sometime later with the pills.

"Will your friend be visiting tomorrow?"

Vash picked at the hem of the bedspread. "I don't know."

"Are you feeling any pain?"

"No."

"There's an awful lot of swelling around the surgical site. Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

"I don't feel anything."

The doctor placed the pills on the tray beside the bed. "I'll leave you one dose for tonight. In case you change your mind."

"Thank you. I'm sorry."

The sun patterns were gone. Darkness creeping in. Vash turned his head to see if the girl was watching, but she was asleep. The doctor had left sometime ago.

_Go to sleep._

Vash read the label on the pill bottle. He wasn't supposed to take that kind of medicine. Professor Luida had warned him against it.

_The pills will help you sleep._

His arm hurt like fire. Vash gasped through his teeth, pushing his face into the pillow.

_Take the medicine. Stop healing. Stop feeling._

Tears dampened the pillowcase. He bit into the fabric to keep from making a sound.

_You'll never have to wake up again._

Vash shut his eyes. "Ninety-nine," he whispered. "Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven. Ninety-six…"

Moonlight patterns danced on the wall. He lost count somewhere in the thirties.

* * *

When Vash awoke, the building was on fire and he was screaming Rem's name. Hands held him down, pinning him to the bed. A needle sank into his skin. Voices swirled in and out of earshot. Gradually, the flames receded and the room came into focus.

The girl was looking at him. She was probably in her teens, maybe a little younger. She had short hair like Meryl's. Her right leg was in a cast.

"I'm sorry you have to share a room with me," Vash said.

Silence in return. _Idiot. Of course she won't talk. You scared her speechless. _

But then the girl spoke. "I cried when they brought me here, too. It was the first night I spent away from home. I was really embarrassed." She smiled sheepishly and added, "I guess everyone feels like crying sometimes."

For a moment, Vash felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. As if he could breathe again.

"My name's Lina," the girl said. "What's your name?"

* * *

Wolf came back the next morning with breakfast he'd bought at a coffee shop. Vash picked at his food halfheartedly while Wolf flipped through a book of class schedules for the spring semester.

"How about woodcarving? It only meets once a week."

Vash glared at him.

"Okay, never mind. Can't trust you around sharp objects, anyway." Wolf skipped to another section. "Advanced Quantum Mechanics?"

"Already took it."

Wolf narrowed his eyes, as if he were trying to assess whether or not Vash was joking. Then he shrugged and returned to the book. "There's always the philosophy department. We could take a class together."

Vash went quiet. His weakened appetite had vanished completely. He stared out the window at the cloudy sky.

_Stop caring about him._

The touch of Wolf's hand on his knee made his muscles tense up. "Listen," Wolf said gently. "What I said that day…about moving out? I was mad at you. I wasn't thinking."

_Let him go._

"Vash? I'm not going to leave, okay? I'm not going anywhere. So, please…"

_If you can't get rid of him, then I will._

Vash pushed Wolf's hand away with tears in his eyes. "Don't," he said miserably.

Wolf's face registered pain, but he weathered Vash's rejection with uncharacteristic determination. "Okay," he said at last. "Okay. We're going to get through this. I can wait as long as you need."

_He's only being nice to you because you lost your arm._

"Meryl and Millie are going to visit when they get back in town. They can't wait to see you."

_They feel sorry for you._

"And I'm fixing up our room. Everything will be back to normal by the time you get out of the hospital." Wolf smiled bleakly. "I wish I could say the same for your hair. But I doubt that stuff will ever wash out."

Vash ran his hand over the back of his neck. His hair felt stiff and bristly. An empty bottle of ink came to his mind, like some half-remembered dream.

"Oh." Wolf stood up and reached for his satchel. "Before I forget. I brought you something." He unpacked Vash's red jacket and laid it at the foot of the bed. "I bet it gets pretty cold in here at night. Besides, I hardly recognize you without it. You don't look like yourself."

A throbbing pain flared up in Vash's arm. He stared at the jacket, but he didn't touch it. "I'm not myself anymore," he mumbled.

Wolf didn't seem to hear him. "I'll let you get some rest. The doctor says you haven't been sleeping." He leaned toward Vash, then paused and stepped back. He cleared his throat and turned around, adjusting the blinds to dampen the morning light. "I'll be back soon. Sleep well, Vash."

He walked out the door without looking back. Vash clasped his hand around the sleeve of his jacket.

_You'll never be yourself again._

* * *

"Is your friend a priest?" Lina asked Vash on a snowy afternoon.

"Huh?" Vash turned to look at her. "Who?"

"You know. That guy who comes to see you every day."

"Wolf…?" Once it hit him, Vash laughed unexpectedly. "No, he's…someone I know from school." His smile faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"Oh." Lina sounded disappointed. "I just thought…well, he wears that black coat all the time. And when you're asleep, I've heard him read prayers out of a book." She shrugged. "I guess it would have been weird. He smokes too much to be a priest."

Vash felt the slightest warmth whenever she spoke. It was like coming out of a dark room on a sunny day. The light felt good on his face, but it stung his eyes a little. "You notice a lot about people," he said.

"My grandma used to smoke a lot. I'd know that smell anywhere. But I made her quit, so everything's better now." Her voice grew serious. "You should make your friend quit, too. It's bad for his lungs."

Vash almost laughed again. "I don't think he'd listen to me. He's kind of stubborn."

"Of course he'd listen to you," Lina said matter-of-factly. "He cares about you. I can tell. Don't you care about him?"

Something twisted in Vash's chest. He clamped his mouth shut, hesitant to speak. Afraid that the wrong answer might come out.

Lina grew quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, she changed the subject. "Tomorrow they're going to teach me how to use a wheelchair by myself. Maybe we can go for a walk."

The grip on his heart loosened, and Vash nodded. "Yeah. I'd like that."

* * *

He lay in bed that night with his jacket clutched to his chest. The room was deceptively silent. Vash whispered, "You can't hurt me."

_I'm not the one you should be worried about._

"People want me to live."

_What people? Have you actually fooled yourself into thinking that you have friends?_

Vash glanced over at Lina to make sure she was still asleep. "I'm not going to let you hurt them," he said.

_There's only one way to protect them. And you know what it is._

A shiver crept across his scalp. "No. I'm going to get better. For Lina and Wolf and the R.A. girls."

The entire room shook with laughter. _You really are an idiot. Go ahead, try to wish away the things you've done. The people you've destroyed. Pretend you can change the monster you are inside. Watch your world fall apart, again and again and again. I never tire of seeing you fail._

Vash pulled the jacket over his face. "Leave me alone."

_Oh, but you are._

* * *

Lina was gone when he woke the next day. His heart pounded at the sight of the empty bed. When a nurse came in to check the swelling in his arm, Vash grabbed her sleeve anxiously. "Where's Lina? Is she safe?"

The nurse eased his hand down with a look of alarm on her face. "The young lady with the broken leg? She's fine. Her physical therapist is working with her today."

"Oh." Vash relaxed slowly, leaning back on the pillow. "Thank you. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. May I have a look at your arm, now?"

"Yes." She unwrapped the bandage, and Vash shut his eyes. He still had a hard time looking at it. "I'm sorry I startled you," he said.

"It's okay." The nurse pressed her hand gently around the surgical site, and Vash winced.

"I'm sorry."

"Please stop apologizing."

"I'm sorry you have to take care of me."

"Don't be silly. It's my job."

_Watch your world fall apart._

"It's all right. Please don't cry."

_London bridge is falling down…_

_ "_Are you—are you feeling okay? Can you hear me?"

_Ashes. Vashes. We all. Fall._

"…going to get the doctor. Can you…" _Get out— _"going into shock. Administer" _can't change. You monster _"hold his arm"

_WHICH MONTH COMES AFTER JULY_

* * *

_ empty boxes, vash._

* * *

He opened his eyes to see Wolf asleep on the bed beside him. The air was warm and heavy. They were back in Room 206 in Chapel Hall at Augusta University. He wrapped Wolf in his arms and pulled him close and breathed him in. Thank God it was a dream. Such a bad dream. Luida was safe. The fire never happened. Rem was safe. The fire never happened. He could sleep now. Finally he could sleep…

* * *

He opened his eyes to see Wolf sitting on the bed beside him.

"Morning, sunshine."

Vash turned his head to look out the window. "It's nighttime."

"Yeah. You slept all day. They made you take some pills."

His eyes blinked wide open. He tried to get up, but his right arm couldn't hold the weight and he fell.

"Hey, hey. Slow down. Vash. I know. I know." Wolf's hand on his shoulder. Wolf's hand on his forehead. "Why didn't you tell me about it? If Luida said something about that medicine…if I knew you weren't taking it because…God, Vash. Why didn't you say something? This could have really been bad."

Vash tried to put the pieces together. The momentary panic had wasted his energy, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"I got them to change the prescription. Told them you had a drug allergy. But…I'm scared about stuff like this. I don't know what to do. Without Professor Luida here…"

"Wolf." Vash stared hard into his dark eyes.

"What is it?"

"You have to…you have to stop me. Before it happens again."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"People like me don't deserve to live."

A pause. "Vash…"

"Don't you get it?" His voice was getting louder. "Why can't I remember anything? Why do I go places I forget? The fires. The gun. First Dr. Conrad and now Professor Luida…" He was crying. He was always fucking crying. "I don't—I don't know what's real, Wolf. I'm not safe. And I've been thinking, what if things didn't happen the way I remember? I thought it was Nigh who started that fire. But there is no Nigh. There's only me. And I was mad at her, too…"

"Wait a minute. Wait. Slow down." Wolf shook his head. "I'm not following. Are you trying to say that you started that fire, just because you can't remember where you were?"

Vash crumpled the bedsheet in his fist. "I keep seeing things. Fragments. But it's always my hand holding the match. My hand pulling the trigger."

Wolf's eyes traveled down to the bandage. "Your left hand," he said quietly.

"I thought if it was gone, I wouldn't feel it anymore. I thought I'd be cured. But he's still here. I hear his voice all the time. I think…I tried to dye my hair, so I could tell us apart. But when I look in the mirror, I see his face. When I close my eyes, I hear his voice. What if Nigh…what if I never had a brother? What if I'm the only one?"

Wolf kept staring at the bandage, his eyes distant. Then he met Vash's gaze and said, "No. You're not the only one. I can tell you that for a fact."

"How? How can you be sure?"

"Because I know you." He paused for a long time. "And because…I know Nigh."

It was Vash's turn to be quiet.

"Nigh went to my school. It was years ago, but I remember. He wasn't like anyone else. He could…see through people. He knew all their secrets. And he knew mine. Secrets I'd never told a living soul." Wolf seemed to wince at the memory. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Anyway, a person like that…there's no mistaking him for anyone else. And there's no mistaking who you are." The slightest smile crossed Wolf's face. "A spiky-haired kid who doesn't like crossword puzzles. A nice guy who'd stand in harm's way for his friends. A little forgetful sometimes, and kind of self-destructive, but…Vash. You're right here beside me." He passed his hand over Vash's hair, gently. "If you need a reminder, all you have to do is ask."

Looking into Wolf's honest eyes, Vash could almost glimpse his own reflection. A sliver of hope lodged in his heart. He wanted to believe what Wolf was saying, so much that it hurt. But trusting another person felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff. Trust meant danger.

He was scared of looking into his past. Scared of what he might find. If Wolf knew the truth, would he stay by Vash's side?

As Wolf stood up and stretched, the sleeve of his sweater slid down and revealed a plastic bandage on his left forearm. Vash instantly seized up with fear. "Wolf, what happened?" he asked in a strained voice.

Wolf raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Your…your arm," Vash stammered.

"Oh." Wolf looked down at his exposed arm and tugged his sleeve back down. "Nicotine patch."

When Vash didn't respond, Wolf smiled wryly. "Lina is making me quit. Says I'm not allowed to visit you unless I stop smoking."

Vash looked across the room at Lina's sleeping face. He suddenly felt like crying again, though he wasn't sure why.

"Everyone has things about themselves they wish they could change," Wolf said. "I'm gonna try, anyway."

He picked up his satchel and turned to leave, but Vash clung to his wrist. "Wait. Please."

There was something about Wolf's presence that kept the voice at bay. At least for now. "Can you stay here tonight?" Vash asked him.

Wolf seemed hesitant at first, his eyes locked on a shadowy corner of the room. Then he turned back to Vash, and his smile resurfaced. "Yeah. As long as you want."

The last remnants of Vash's fear dissolved as Wolf settled in beside him. Even as sleep weighed down his eyelids, Vash held onto Wolf's wrist, the steady pulse a metronome, counting out infinite reasons to keep living, to stay alive.

* * *

It must have been close to dawn when Vash awoke to see Wolf trembling, his pulse racing. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he searched the room with wide eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept at all. "Wolf? What's wrong?"

Wolf jumped at the sound of his name, but he relaxed a little when he realized who'd said it. "You should be asleep," Wolf whispered. "Don't worry about me. Everything's fine."

Vash watched Wolf wipe his face with his sleeve, trying to slow his shaky breathing. Then Vash reached for his jacket and held it out to Wolf.

"You were right. It gets really cold here at night."

Wolf turned toward him, but Vash couldn't see his expression in the dark. After a moment, Wolf pulled the jacket over his head and wriggled his arms into the sleeves. He sniffed. "Thanks."

Later, in a voice so faint that Vash might have only imagined it, Wolf added, "There are so many of them here."

* * *

"Wake up, sleepyheads!"

Vash squinted at the sunlight streaming through the blinds. An equally sunny face smiled at him from the bedside. "Lina? How did you…?"

He looked down at the wheelchair, and Lina grinned. "I passed my driver's test," she joked. "And someone promised me a walk."

Vash tried to raise himself up on his elbow, only to find Wolf curled under the covers beside him, pinning him down like a paperweight. "Think we'll have to get the priest some coffee, first," Vash said. "I'm trapped."

It didn't take much coaxing to get Wolf on his feet, however. As soon as he opened his eyes and realized where he was, Wolf scrambled out of the bed, blushing profusely. "I—I don't—I didn't—I must have s—sleepwalked or something…"

Lina traded glances with Vash and stifled a giggle. "Come on," she urged them. "I want to go outside before the snow melts."

Vash felt a little dizzy as they started their journey down the hall. He'd been doing upper arm exercises with his physical therapist, but he hadn't been on his feet much during his hospital stay. Watching Lina glide along so independently, Vash wondered if he had the stamina to make it to the elevator.

Yes, he thought. He could do this. He _wanted_ to do this.

Vash reached for Wolf's hand to steady himself. Wolf gave him a sleepy smile. "Doing okay?"

"Yeah." Vash felt the warmth of his palm, that steady rhythm. "I am."

They followed Lina onto the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor. Gravity shifted for a moment as the carriage descended, and Vash had to concentrate on the ceiling to keep from getting sick. Then the door opened and they crossed through the lobby into the cold winter morning.

Birds were singing from the bare branches of the trees. A car drove by slowly, tires churning in the slush. Snow sparkled on the sidewalks, reflecting sunlight so bright that it brought tears to Vash's eyes.

"What a view," Lina said breathlessly.

Vash nodded. The soft breeze raised chills on his arm, but he didn't say anything about the cold, because then Wolf might notice that he was still wearing Vash's jacket.

When the voice spoke that morning, it sounded different. Warmer. More like his own.

It said, _You're going to make it._


	16. Child of God

_Not all of my memories are bad ones. There was the time that Livio and I snuck out of St. Michael's and spent the night in the woods. We even built a campfire. It was Livio's idea to tell ghost stories. After one or two of my most watered-down tales, Livio was so scared that he didn't want to walk back to the dormitory. To tell the truth, I wasn't feeling so brave, either. But the moment I saw tears in Livio's eyes, something got hold of me. I knew that I was going to get him back safely, no matter what. So I carried him on my back through the dark woods with my heart pounding ten times too fast._

_ Brother Matthias was waiting outside our dormitory with his arms folded. His expression was meant to be cross, but his eyes betrayed a softness that he could never completely hide from us. When we told him about the ghost stories, he laughed. "I'll make you a deal," he said. "Come to my office and tell me your scariest ghost story, and I won't speak a word of this to Father Chapel."_

_ Livio and I spent the rest of the night wrapped in a quilt in front of Brother Matthias's fireplace, sharing hot chocolate and laughing about how frightened we'd been. It was the happiest night I could remember._

_ I don't like to think about those memories anymore. Not the ones with Brother Matthias, and especially not the ones with Livio. Because sometimes good memories hurt much worse than bad memories ever could._

* * *

Nicholas ran his hands through his hair, pushing his bangs over his right eye to cover the bruise. If he kept his head down, maybe no one would notice.

Summer vacation was over, and Nicholas was glad to be back at school. Even if it meant that he had to face Caine and the other bullies, he wasn't worried. No matter how hard they hit him, Nicholas could handle worse. The back-to-school gift from his father was proof enough of that.

He wasn't afraid. Not of them.

On his way to the dormitory, Nicholas slammed into someone very large. They stumbled backward a few steps, and Nicholas recognized the vestment that belonged to the brothers of the order. _Oh, God. _"S-s-s-sorry," he managed to spit out.

But the voice that spoke was warm and friendly. "Classes don't start until tomorrow, you know. There's no need to rush."

Nicholas lifted his chin a little. He hoped he wasn't blushing.

"Well, it's no wonder you ran into me. Can you see anything through that mop of hair?"

Before Nicholas could react, the brother reached out and lifted his bangs out of his eyes. For a split second, Nicholas caught a glimpse of his smiling face. Then the smile fell, and the brother gasped softly. "Oh."

_Shit. _Nicholas flinched and shuffled out of reach, shaking his hair back over his forehead. This was it. The brother was about to haul him off to the faculty building and they were going to call the police and there would be questions and social workers and hell to pay when his father showed up. He'd better start running now…

"Are you a new student?" the brother asked, derailing his thoughts.

Nicholas shook his head. "N—no. I'm a s—sec—I'm a s—" Damn it, now his face was really red. His stutter must have gotten worse over the summer.

"A second year. I see." The man's voice was kind, with a slightly higher intonation than Nicholas would have expected. And now that Nicholas looked up, he could see that the brother was more wide than tall. Nothing like Father Chapel, with his thundering voice and imposing height. Nicholas relaxed a bit.

The brother held out his hand. "My name is Matthias. I'll be teaching your Latin class this year."

Nicholas shook his hand tentatively. "N…Nicholas Wolfwood."

Brother Matthias smiled again. It was a well-worn smile, evidenced by the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. "_Vale,_ Nicholas. I'll see you tomorrow."

He waved, and Nicholas hurried on his way. _Dear_ _God, _he thought. Latin was the absolute worst. There were too many consonants. And the first-year teacher had always called on Nicholas to read out loud, in front of the whole class. It was for his own good, the teacher said. Speech impediments don't go away on their own.

All those times he'd stood at the blackboard, tripping over the words while his classmates laughed and laughed…this year would be no different, would it?

But the next day, throughout the entire lesson, Brother Matthias did not call on Nicholas a single time. Not even during roll call. Instead, he tapped Nicholas on the shoulder and asked him to stay after class.

"Can you read the first sentence?" Brother Matthias asked, pushing an open book across the desk to face him.

_Great. _So this was how it was going to be. Private torture, in place of public humiliation. He was foolish to get his hopes up.

The room was empty except for the two of them. Nicholas cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes, focusing on the words. "_In princi—principio, creavit D—Deus…c…c…_" He stepped back from the desk, pounding his fist against his thigh. "I can't."

"You were doing fine, just then."

"No," Nicholas replied, his voice rising. "No, I was n—not. I just…I just sound…st—stupid. I _am_ stupid."

Brother Matthias folded his arms. "Nicholas. I don't want you to ever say that again. You are a child of God. I hope you know what that means."

"Yes, sir," Nicholas mumbled. But he didn't know what it meant. He'd been called a son of many different things in his lifetime. God, however, was not one of them.

"You understand the words," Brother Matthias continued, pointing to the book. "You know what this says, don't you?"

Nicholas shrugged and nodded. "It's the f-first line of Genesis."

"That's right." Brother Matthias closed the book and lowered his head, attempting to establish eye contact with Nicholas. "Let me tell you something. When I was younger, I hated the sound of my voice. I was so ashamed that I never spoke, and I failed a lot of classes." He rapped the book with his knuckles. "You've heard of Moses, surely. Another fellow with a speaking problem."

_This old story again. _"G—God's not gonna…c—cure me."

"Certainly not," Brother Matthias replied, and Nicholas blinked. "Everyone remembers Moses for the miracles he performed, but he was not alone. Aaron was called to be by his side. A spokesperson. A high priest. A brother."

Nicholas felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder. This time, he didn't shy away.

"One day," Brother Matthias said, "it's going to end. You're going to get out. Believe that, Nicholas. It may take some time, but you will find a good place to live, with good people in it."

He let go, and as the weight of his hand lifted, Nicholas felt the weight in his heart grow lighter, too.

"In the meantime," Brother Matthias said, "I want you to pass Latin. So I'll make you a deal. I won't ask you to speak in class, if, in return, you stay after class once a week to do your readings out loud. No audience, no judgment. I'll hide under my desk, if that helps."

Nicholas snorted a laugh, unanticipated. It wasn't the best deal he'd been offered, but it definitely wasn't the worst. And there was something about Brother Matthias that put Nicholas at ease. He was the first person who seemed to understand. The first _adult_ who seemed to care. Nicholas didn't feel like a joke in front of him. He felt heard. He felt real.

"Okay," Nicholas agreed.

Years passed, but the conversation would stay with him. He would remember Brother Matthias as his first friend and ally. And one day, Wolf would look up and realize that the Red Sea was behind him, and he'd made it safely to the other side.

* * *

Wolf stepped onto the elevator and punched the button with his elbow, balancing two cups of coffee with his bag tucked under one arm. He had just come back from mentoring, and he was exhausted from spending an hour on the playground with Jasmine after she begged him to stay longer. At times like this, Wolf really wished that Vash would get his energy back. The kids asked about him a lot. Wolf didn't know if he should tell them about Vash's arm. Vash was sick, Wolf explained. Vash needs lots of rest.

Probably they could see how worried he was. Probably they could tell he was lying. Shepherd knew, for sure. But he accepted Wolf's flimsy answers with unfailing patience and trust. More and more, Wolf felt like he was the one being mentored at his weekend job. Just being around Shepherd put him at ease, made him think twice about giving up at any particular moment.

He'd bought a pack of cigarettes on his way to the church that morning. He'd thrown it away that same afternoon.

_I'm lucky,_ Wolf thought as the elevator door began to close. _I found a good place to live, with good people in it. I should be happy._

"Wait just a minute, young man!"

An elderly woman was hurrying toward the elevator. Wolf reached out his hand to stop the door from closing, accidentally sloshing coffee and dropping his bag in the same instant. _Mostly good people,_ he thought bitterly.

"Nobody believes in common courtesy these days," the woman huffed as she shuffled onto the elevator. "Children used to respect their elders, you know."

"I'm sorry. I didn't see you." Wolf stared helplessly at his books spilled on the floor, the coffee dripping down his hand.

"Well? Aren't you going to ask which floor I'm going to?"

Wolf sighed. "Which floor are you going to."

"Third floor, _thank you for asking. _Surgical inpatient unit."

Wolf nodded to the button lit up on the grid. "That's where I'm going."

"Lucky me."

The door closed and the elevator began to ascend. Wolf knelt down carefully and set the coffee cups on the floor while he retrieved his books. The woman squinted through her spectacles at one of the books that had fallen at her feet.

"A little young to be a priest, aren't you?"

Wolf snatched up the worn black bible and stuffed it into his bag. "What makes you think I'm a priest?" he grumbled.

"My vision may be weak, but I know a Catholic when I see one. You've got the collar and the coat, after all."

He looked down at his usual outfit, a white collared shirt under a dark sweater, with his winter coat over top. If he blurred his eyes, he could almost see it. "I guess you're not too far off track," he said wearily.

"Yes, there's nothing like a good Christian upbringing to turn you against religion for the rest of your life."

Wolf wished he hadn't thrown those cigarettes out. "Tell me about it," he muttered.

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. Wolf made a point of stepping back to let the woman out first. She raised her chin in the air as she passed him, but she waited until Wolf stepped off the elevator before she started down the hall. Wolf got the distinct impression that this woman enjoyed having someone to complain to.

"I've had it up to here with the staff at this hospital," the old woman rambled. "When I was your age, doctors made house calls. Now you're lucky if they ever let you go home. Why, I could sprain my little finger and these quacks would shut me in a cell for two weeks, minimum. And I'd be expected to pay for it out the nose!" She spread her arms in a gesture of disbelief, whacking the cup in Wolf's left hand and causing him to slosh more coffee on the floor. "It's a good thing we're leaving today," she continued, oblivious to Wolf's dismal expression. "I'm through with doctors and hospitals from this day forward. I don't care if the scarlet fever breaks out. They'll just have to pry the last of my pension from my cold, dead—"

"Grandma!"

A cheerful voice rang out from the open doorway. Lina was waiting in her wheelchair, grinning from ear to ear.

The old woman's face broke into a crinkly smile. "Sweetheart. How are you feeling today?"

"Never better." Lina spun the chair in a circle to demonstrate, and her grandmother clutched her heart in surprise.

"Lina, be careful! Lord knows you'll break your other leg, pulling a stunt like that. Are you sure you're ready to go home? Maybe I should ask that doctor…"

"I'm fine, Grandma. Besides, weren't _you_ the one who nearly chewed the doctor's head off for keeping me here an extra week?"

"That was before I saw this contraption." She prodded the wheelchair with a skeptical toe. "Doesn't look very sturdy to me. I'm going to insist that they replace it before we leave."

Wolf watched the whole exchange with unblinking eyes. _Are they really related?_ he wondered.

Lina looked up at Wolf and frowned. "Mr. Priest, you ruined the surprise. I wanted to introduce you to my grandma, but it looks like you've already met."

Wolf scratched his head nervously. "We…uh…skipped the formal introduction."

Lina's grandmother shot a dubious glance at Wolf. "Has this holy roller been trying to convert you, Lina?"

"No," her granddaughter laughed. "Grandma, this is Mr. Wolfwood. He's not really a priest."

The old woman looked him up and down, unconvinced. "Well, my dear, you've always chosen the oddest friends."

* * *

Lina invited Wolf and Vash to eat lunch with them before she left the hospital. Wolf could see the brightness returning to Vash's eyes as he listened to Lina's stories about home and school and her other odd friends. Vash switched his charm into high gear around Lina's grandmother, and by the end of the meal she was absolutely smitten with him. At one point, she pinched Wolf's ear and whispered, "Now, _that_ is how you speak to your elders, churchman. Take a hint from your nice young friend."

Wolf wanted to say something less than polite, but he bit his lip instead. Vash was smiling, after all. No need to spoil a perfect moment.

Before they checked out, Wolf noticed that Vash had taken Lina's grandmother aside. He was speaking to her with a serious look on his face, holding her hand tightly. Wolf edged closer to eavesdrop. Then Vash put his arm around the old woman's shoulders, and Wolf heard his raw, shaking voice. "Thank you for Lina. She saved my life."

"Mr. Priest?"

Wolf looked down to see Lina beside him.

"You won't break your promise, right?" She pointed to the nicotine patch on Wolf's arm, and he smiled.

"Right."

"I knew I could trust you."

They said their goodbyes. Lina hugged Vash, and then Wolf, too, though he hadn't done anything to deserve it.

Vash cried when they left. But he was still smiling, so Wolf guessed it was okay.

* * *

It wasn't long before the doctor declared Vash fit to be released from the hospital. On their way to the lobby, Wolf flipped through the numerous pages of exercises and advice that the physical therapist had given them.

"You'll have to start going to the gym with me, now," Wolf said.

"I can still run."

"Yeah, but you need to work twice as hard to stay in shape. I'm gonna be your personal trainer. We can do all these together. That way I'll know if you're skimping."

"Whatever," Vash grumbled.

Wolf felt the slightest sting. He was trying so hard to be useful. To be the best…friend that he could be, to Vash. But every once in a while, he'd say something stupid and Vash would close up again. One step forward, two steps back.

_Don't try to tell him what to do, _Wolf chided himself. _Ask next time._

"Have you signed up for classes yet?" Vash changed the subject, to Wolf's relief.

"Yeah. Mostly theology and history, but I'm taking some primary education courses, too."

Vash met his eyes. "To become a teacher?"

"Maybe." Wolf laughed self-consciously, and shrugged. "I don't know yet. It's a good back-up plan if my dream job doesn't pan out."

"You never told me you had a dream job."

Wolf blushed. "It's not…I mean…I didn't have one, until…" He blinked up at Vash. "You have to keep it a secret."

"Of course," Vash said softly, as if there was never any question of it.

"Okay." _I'm so lucky. _"I thought of it when I was talking to Millie, the night you…went missing." _I'm so lucky to have you here. _"I want to have this place, where kids can go to be safe. There are good people there who look after them. There's, like…books and teachers and stuff, if they can't go to school. And places to sleep if they can't go home. And maybe there's a mentor like me, or a counselor or something, and people with different religions, because sometimes kids want to ask you about God." _I should really be happier._ _I should be smiling all the time. _"It's not a church or a school or an orphanage or anything, but it's kind of all of those things, I guess. It's kind of…a sanctuary."

Wolf chewed his lip until it hurt. _I'm talking too much._ Everything sounded so dumb when he said it out loud.

Vash gazed up at the ceiling, and his voice was level and thoughtful when he spoke. "I really like that. I hope your dream comes true someday, Wolf." He paused. "I hope I'm there to see it."

Wolf opened his mouth to say _Of course you will be. Of course you'll be with me, _but the words got stuck somewhere between his heart and his throat. He couldn't make that promise, no matter how desperately he wanted to. So he reached for Vash's hand and held on tight.

It was the best he could do. It was the most he could offer. To keep holding on, regardless of what the future held.

* * *

Meryl and Millie were waiting outside when Vash and Wolf came through the door. They smiled and cheered and told Vash how well he looked, but Wolf couldn't help noticing the tremor of concern in Millie's voice, and the way Meryl's eyes flitted to Vash's left arm. Nobody asked about the surgery. Nobody mentioned the change in Vash's hair color or the left sleeve of his jacket hanging loose and empty. Wolf realized how easy it was to tell what someone was thinking about, by listening to the words they didn't say. Words they were too afraid to speak out loud.

Wolf climbed into the backseat next to Vash. He could see Vash struggling to clip the seat belt, and Wolf instinctively reached over to help him. "Thanks," Vash mumbled. He turned his face away from Wolf, staring out the window as they pulled away from the hospital.

To be honest, Wolf wasn't exactly eager to talk about those things, himself. Over the past few weeks, Vash had occupied his every thought. The police investigation of the fire had turned up nothing. Professor Luida was gone, vanished along with her secrets. Without her, Wolf knew hardly anything about Vash's obscure physical illness. There was no more medicine, no more injections, and Wolf had no idea what horrors that could mean for his dearest friend.

Meanwhile, his dearest friend refused to cooperate with Wolf's attempts to make sense of it all. Vash didn't want to talk about Luida. The sound of her name was enough to bring him to tears. When Wolf asked about the medicine, Vash just shrugged. His eyes went far away, sometimes so far that Wolf was afraid he wouldn't be able to bring him back. So he stopped asking.

Back at the reception desk, Wolf had written his own name and address on the billing paperwork. He would take care of it somehow. He had to. But now that the weight of the truth had begun to sink into his chest, Wolf felt scared. He didn't know what was going to happen next. He wasn't ready for school to start yet. He didn't know how to take care of another person. And worst of all…

Worst of all, deep down in the darkest corner of his mind, there was that _thing._ The one single thought that Wolf had forced himself not to think about. The fact that what happened to Vash…

_No no no no no._

The truth was that this was all Wolf's fault.

Wolf leaned forward with his head in his hands, suddenly feeling very sick. _Stop it,_ he begged, but the thoughts kept seeping out like blood from a puncture wound. He wasn't there. God damn him, he could have stopped this from happening. He said bad things to Vash, and then he left.

He wasn't there. He wasn't there. He wasn't there.

_Don't start crying now, you jerk. _Wolf blinked, his face hot and his throat sore. He peered over at Vash, who was still turned toward the window.

He wanted so badly to hold Vash the way he used to. Feel that heartbeat against his cheek. But hell, he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to be forgiven for this. Not ever.

A tear rolled down the side of Wolf's face, and he brushed it away quickly. For a split second, Meryl locked eyes with him in the rearview mirror. He was certain she'd seen him crying. He knew because she said nothing about it.

The sky outside grew cloudy. Raindrops spattered against the windshield. Meryl turned the wipers on, and Millie tuned the radio to her and Vash's favorite eighties station. Wolf was relieved. In the pounding rain, with the soft lull of music as a backdrop, nobody heard the strangled sounds that escaped from his lips as the tears slid down his neck and dampened the collar of his shirt.

* * *

"You're going to love what Mr. Wolfwood has done with the room," Millie told Vash as they climbed the stairwell in Chapel Hall. "It's better than new."

They opened the door to Room 206, and Vash stood there for a moment, staring. Wolf had to admit, he was proud. The lightbulbs had all been replaced. The room was clean, the desk was back in order, and the bed was made with new sheets. With Millie's help, Wolf had hauled the spare bed upstairs at last and placed it in the opposite corner of the room.

Wolf no longer fooled himself into thinking that Vash would want to share a bed with him. That night he'd spent in Vash's hospital bed was simply an accident. Vash had been too nice to say anything about it, that was all. The last thing Wolf wanted was to make Vash feel uncomfortable. He'd been stupid to think that they shared anything besides a room, a desk, a dresser, a mattress. A few misguided kisses. _Stop._ Wolf had made assumptions in the past, and look where it had gotten them. He couldn't allow himself to make that mistake again.

"This is really nice," Vash said quietly. He took a timid step into the room, as if he were afraid he would contaminate it. He looked down at the floor, where Wolf had thrown a rug over the huge black ink stain. Then he sat down on the spare bed and scrunched a fistful of covers in his hand. "I'm sorry you had to do all this alone, Wolf. I wish I could have helped."

"Don't be silly," Wolf said, blushing. "I wasn't alone. Meryl and Millie helped me out a lot."

"We're your R.A.s," Meryl added. "It's our job to look after you. Anyway, you don't need to worry about this on top of…everything else."

Her voice trailed off abruptly, and her face went a little pale. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…"

Millie squeezed her hand, and Wolf peeked nervously at Vash. But Vash looked more tired than upset. He smiled weakly at Meryl. "It's okay. Can I have some time by myself, please?"

"Sure," Meryl replied instantly. "We must be getting on your nerves, hovering around like this. Millie, let's go look over the roster for the dorm this semester."

She hooked her arm through Millie's, practically towing her out the door. Millie looked over her shoulder, smiled and waved at Vash. "Call us if you need anything."

Wolf stood in the doorway for a minute after they left. "I guess…I'll go to the library for a while. Want me to bring you back some coffee?"

"No, thanks."

He stalled a little longer, pretending to search for a book in the desk drawers. He really didn't want to leave Vash on his own. "Um…" Wolf rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his shoes. "Vash…you're feeling okay, right? You're not…you're not going to…"

"I'm fine," Vash said evenly. "I won't break anything else, Wolf. I've caused enough trouble for you already."

"That's not what I meant." Wolf sighed. "Just…text me in thirty minutes?"

"Alright."

As soon as he left the room, Wolf found Meryl and Millie waiting in the hallway. They watched him anxiously, expectantly.

"Is Mr. Vash really okay?" Millie whispered.

Wolf shoved his hands in his pockets. "I think so. I hope so."

Meryl looked so ashamed of herself that Wolf felt a twinge of empathy. Millie slid an arm around her shoulders. "You didn't say anything bad, Meryl. We're new to this. It's going to take time."

After a pause, Meryl sniffed and nodded. Millie was right. They were all new to this. Wolf didn't feel quite so lonely, knowing that Meryl and Millie felt as helpless as he did.

But as he walked out into the rain that afternoon, Wolf wondered if things would ever go back to normal between him and his three best friends.

* * *

The rain had stopped and the sky was getting dark when Wolf came back from the library. He dropped off two cups of coffee at the R.A. desk for Meryl and Millie, then headed upstairs to see Vash.

"_Goddamn it!_" an unmistakable voice cried from the direction of Wolf's room.

Wolf's heart stopped, and he raced to the door. _No. Not again. Not again._

"Vash?" Wolf threw the door open to see his roommate sitting on the spare bed, half-dressed. "Are you—are you okay?"

Vash was breathing unsteadily, and his face looked like he'd been crying, but other than that, he didn't seem hurt. "Oh," Vash said in a controlled voice. "Hey, Wolf. Sorry I yelled."

Wolf took a step closer, watching him cautiously. Vash was trying to button his shirt with his good arm. His hair and skin were still damp from the shower. And his jeans were only halfway on, a fact which Wolf tried unsuccessfully to ignore.

"Do you want some help?" Wolf asked, raising his hand to hold the shirt steady.

"_No,_" Vash said sharply, turning away and losing his balance a little.

Wolf let his hand fall to his side. Vash continued to struggle with the buttons.

"Do you want a different shirt?" Wolf offered, opening a drawer.

"No! Just leave me alone, Wolf. I don't want your help."

That hurt. Wolf closed the drawer and moved out of the way. Moved to his side of the room.

Vash gritted his teeth, increasingly agitated. His hand was shaking. "I need to do this on my own. I can't be relying on you all the time, for everything."

"I don't mind," Wolf said quietly.

"Well, I do." Vash managed to fasten three buttons before he realized that he'd lined them up wrong. "_Shit! _What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Vash, it's okay."

"Will you just shut up?" The tears were back, his composure lost. "Do you know how long I've been sitting here trying to do this one fucking simple thing? I'm so goddamn useless that I can't—"

"Stop right now," Wolf growled, striding over to him. "Don't you dare say those things. You're talking about the person I love."

Vash stared up at Wolf, his lips still parted, cut off mid-sentence. And Wolf was so close he could smell his soap and sweat and he could feel the steam rising off his skin and his dripping disheveled hair and his clothes were undone and _Oh God what did I just say._

"Wolf?" Vash whispered. His voice was so perfect.

"I—I'm—I'm sorry." Wolf tore his gaze from everything beautiful about Vash and forced himself to step back. "I'll leave you alone."

He pretended to have things to do. He pretended to read while Vash buttoned his shirt. He pretended to play cards with Meryl and Millie while they ate dinner in the refectory. He pretended to sleep while they lay in separate beds that night, and he pretended not to think about what he'd said to Vash, or whether or not he'd just ruined everything.


	17. Refuge

_Love is a powerful thing, Rem told us. So powerful that some people will give up their lives for it. Or do bad things that they know they shouldn't do. But love can make you do good things, too. For yourself and for other people._

_ "So, is love a good thing or a bad thing?" I asked._

_ "Neither," Rem answered. "It's just a feeling. What matters is how you choose to act on it."_

_ "Do you love anyone, Rem?"_

_ I can still see her smile like an afterglow, too bright for my eyes._

_ "I love Vash and Nigh, my two favorite people in the world."_

_ Did she always smile like that, or was it just my imagination?_

_ "We love you, too, Rem! And you're our favorite person in the whole wide world!"_

_ Nigh was the first one to say it. But years later, after Rem was gone, he was the first to take it back. Love was a lie, he said. Just like everything else they taught us in that house. A human word for a human feeling that we could never experience._

_ A weakness that we would never have._

* * *

"Rem? Where do we keep the expectorants?"

Vash sneezed violently and fell back on the pillow, staring groggily up at the ceiling. He heard the thunder of Nigh's footsteps in the hallway, then what sounded like an avalanche of pill bottles from the bathroom medicine cabinet.

"Nigh, what on earth are you doing in here?" Rem's voice rang out at twice its normal volume.

"Pharmaceutical chemistry," Nigh replied.

"Not on my watch, you're not."

"But, Rem—"

"Back to your room. Three, two…"

Nigh stomped through the doorway, shoulders hunched.

"What _were_ you doing?" Vash asked, scrubbing his nose with his sleeve.

"_Nothing,_" Nigh snapped. He flopped facedown on his bed, then muttered into the covers, "Nothing _bad._"

Rem came in a few moments later to take Vash's temperature. She paused at the foot of Nigh's bed. "I know you want Vash to get better, Nigh. We both do."

"He's already been sick _twice_ this month." Nigh rolled onto his side, hugging a pillow against his chest. "The medicine isn't working. He should be better by now."

Rem ruffled his hair with one hand. "Healing is a process. It takes time."

"It's not fair," Nigh pouted. "How come I never get sick?"

At this, Rem laughed. "Don't tell me you're jealous because Vash gets to lie around all day."

But that wasn't it. Vash could tell by the look on Nigh's face.

"It's not fair," Nigh repeated, quietly.

Rem unwrapped the thermometer and placed it under Vash's tongue. "What's the magic word?" she asked him with a smile.

It was their joke. "Ablacadabla," Vash giggled, trying to keep the thermometer from falling out of his mouth.

Rem made a show of waving her arms to cast a spell, scrunching up her face in concentration. Vash nearly turned purple from holding in his laughter. She could always make him laugh.

"One degree cooler!" Rem announced. "The magic wand triumphs again!"

Nigh watched them, skeptically. After Rem tucked the covers under Vash's chin, after she turned off the light and left the room, Nigh spoke up.

"Vash? I'm going to find a way to stop you from getting sick. When I grow up, I'm going to be a scientist like Mom and Dad, and I'll find a cure that makes it so you never get sick again. Even if it means we have to swap places. I promise."

In the dark, Vash could barely see Nigh's face. "It's not a big deal, Nigh. I always get better. You don't have to do anything for me."

"Yes I _do._"

"Why?"

"Because you're my brother." Nigh's voice was muffled, so he must have been hiding behind his pillow. "And because it isn't fair."

* * *

On the last Saturday before classes began, Vash joined Wolf on his visit to the church.

"Are you sure you want to go?" Wolf had asked him. "The kids are going to ask about your arm."

"I know. But I want to see them again."

They did ask about it. While Wolf and Shepherd were talking inside, Vash sat on the picnic table with a crowd of wide-eyed children gathered around him.

"Did it hurt?" one boy asked.

"I slept through the operation, so I couldn't feel it. But it hurt a little when I woke up."

"Why did they have to cut it off?"

Vash took a deep breath. "Because I hurt myself really badly, and I didn't tell anyone about it." He looked from one tiny face to the next. "That's why you should never lie about how you're feeling. If you're in pain and you try to hide it, the pain will just get worse. So talk to someone, like Mr. Wolf. He's really good at helping with that kind of stuff."

"What did they do with your arm?" someone shouted. "Did they let you keep it?"

Vash laughed in surprise. "No way! That's gross."

"I guess you can't play outside with us anymore," a small girl said, disappointed.

"What are you talking about?" Vash smiled. "Well, I mean, the monkey bars are out of the question, but there's plenty of other things to do. Besides, I don't need two arms to outrun you guys."

"You couldn't outrun us before!"

Vash sprang to his feet. "You wanna place money on that bet?"

"Sixty billion dollars! And you still owe us for the first time!"

"Wait a minute! At least give me a head start!" Vash shrieked, vaulting over a bench and sprinting out of reach. The crowd of kids charged after him, yelling and laughing.

As he ran in circles around the churchyard, his heart beat faster and the air didn't feel so cold. Vash breathed in deep. He had missed running, and smiling, and the sound of laughter. And when he passed the open door of the sanctuary and saw Wolf standing there, watching him with a look of complete affection, Vash realized there was something else he had missed.

If it wasn't for Wolf, he never would have found this place. He never would have met Amelia or Shepherd or Neko the cat. He never would have eaten doughnuts in the library. He never would have made it to the hospital in time.

If it wasn't for Wolf, Vash probably wouldn't be alive.

On their walk back to campus, Vash tried to find the right words to say to someone who meant so much to him. Wolf had been looking out for Vash since the day they met. _Thank you_ didn't seem like nearly enough.

Vash remembered the nights when Wolf gave up his blanket so Vash would have an extra one. He remembered kissing Wolf in the backseat of Meryl's car. He remembered waking up with their bodies puzzle-pieced together. And when he looked at Wolf's face, his soft dark eyes and his introspective frown and the sunlight touching his nose, Vash knew without having to decide that Wolf was his favorite person in the world.

And there used to be a word for that, but Vash was afraid to say it out loud.

* * *

Wolf had decided to stop at the convenience store on their way to the dorm, so Vash was alone when he walked into Chapel Hall. He couldn't shake the feeling that Wolf was avoiding him. Even though they'd spent most of the day together, they'd barely spoken a word to each other.

At the entrance to the atrium, someone held the door open for Vash, glancing nervously at his arm. Vash forced a smile and muttered, "Thanks," his temper boiling.

It was this kind of thing that hurt the most. The way people looked at his arm instead of his eyes. Going out of their way to help him with things he could do by himself. Vash knew they were just trying to be kind, but it made him want to scream.

He exhaled slowly. _No wonder Wolf is avoiding me,_ he thought. _I can't exactly blame him._

Meryl was busy at the R.A. desk, signing in students. Most of the residents were moving in this weekend, so the atrium was more crowded than usual. Vash hung around until the line died down, then he caught Meryl's eye and smiled shyly.

"Oh. Hey, Vash!" Meryl gave him a tense little wave, her face flushed behind her reading glasses. The papers on her desk were in uncharacteristic disarray, ringed with stains from several empty teacups. "I'm sorry I've been so busy lately. There are a lot of new students moving in this semester, and Millie has been volunteering with the new science building construction, so I've been kind of single-handed…" She gasped, eyes wide. "Oh, my _God._ I just…I did it again. I'm so sorry…"

Okay, there was this, too. The hypersensitivity. The apologies. But Vash was tired of scaring people away. And when he saw tears forming in Meryl's eyes, he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Meryl, you don't have to walk on eggshells around me." Vash held out his hand. "I'm still the same person. You know that, right?"

A tear slipped down Meryl's cheek. "Of course I do." She took his hand, hesitantly. Her palm felt cold and damp against his. "It's just…"

"You want to know what happened," Vash finished quietly.

Her eyes flicked up at his. _Yes,_ they said. _Because you're my friend. Because I have a right to know. Because you've kept me in the dark about everything, always._ But her mouth said, "It's none of my business."

Vash looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening in. The atrium had emptied out, for the most part. He turned back to Meryl. "It is your business," he said. "You said so yourself. It's your job to look after us, remember?"

Meryl smiled humorlessly. "This is different."

"Yeah." Vash let go of her hand. "But you still deserve to know the truth. I've kept a lot of secrets from you and Millie. And some of them…I'm not ready to tell anybody. But I can't hide this one anymore." He held out the stump of his left arm. This was scary. This was dangerous. He took a deep breath. "I trust you, Meryl. I do."

And all of a sudden she was crying harder, and Vash wondered if he'd done something terribly wrong. She turned away from him, and it looked like she was going to run away right then and there. Until she marched around the corner of the desk, so she could stand closer to him, face to face. Until she held his shoulders with both hands, and spoke firmly through her tears.

"Please tell me, then. Please. Because you scared the hell out of me, Vash, and there was nothing I could do about it, and I never want to feel that way again, ever."

That was when Vash felt the tears in his own eyes.

He told her. About the scars he used to hide, about Wolf finding out, about the voice in his head that sometimes whispered bad things. He didn't tell her what the voice said—didn't tell her about Nigh, or Luida, or July—but Meryl nodded as if she understood, as if it all made sense to her. Which was honestly more than Vash had ever expected from anyone.

She hugged him for a long time without saying a word. Vash smoothed her hair timidly, the way Rem used to do when he was upset. "I'm sorry I scared you," he said. "I'm sorry I lied about so many things. I made Wolf lie about them, too. I was a bad friend…I'm sorry."

Meryl stepped back, shaking her head. "You're a good friend. A really good friend. I'm glad you told me, Vash." She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm glad you're here."

Vash squeezed her hand. It didn't feel cold anymore. "Me, too," he said.

When Meryl smiled—really genuinely smiled—Vash felt as if he'd been given some rare treasure. Meryl was another one of his favorite people. So precious to him that it was frightening. But her smile outweighed the fear, and without a second thought, Vash placed his hand on the side of her face and kissed the top of her head.

At that very same moment, Wolf walked into the atrium.

* * *

Meryl jumped back, startled. Her cheeks turned bright pink, and Vash followed her gaze to Wolf, who was standing in the doorway with a plastic bag in one hand and Neko at his feet, looking absolutely crestfallen.

"Wolf!" Meryl exclaimed. "We were just talking—about, um—how we never see you anymore!"

She laughed a little too loudly. Wolf sort of half grunted, half cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah," he said. "You and Millie must have a lot to do right now."

"Things will slow down once everyone has moved in. There are a lot of new faces in Chapel Hall this year. As a matter of fact, there's a new transfer student moving in down the hall from you guys…"

She flipped through the roster on the desk, somewhat frantically. Wolf held up his palm to stop her. "I won't waste your time. We can hang out when you're not so busy." He glanced at Vash, and for a split second his eyes looked murderous. Vash opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He had no idea why Meryl was so flustered, or why Wolf was so upset.

"Listen," Meryl called out as Wolf shuffled toward the stairwell. "Tomorrow's the last move-in day. Millie and I have the morning off, so let's all go to breakfast together." She looked at Vash desperately. "If you want?"

"Of course," Vash said, curling his arm around her shoulders and making her blush even more. Then he saw Wolf trudging up the stairs, and he jogged after him.

"We'll both be there!" Vash assured Meryl with a final wave. "You can count on it!"

* * *

He caught up with Wolf at the door to their room. Wolf's hands were shaking the way they used to when he smoked too much, and he was having a hard time with his keys. When he dropped the keyring, Vash bent down and picked it up.

"Let me get that." Vash chanced a look at Wolf's face as he unlocked the door. Still upset. Neko twined around their legs, then leapt into the room ahead of them.

"So, what did you need to pick up at the store?" Vash asked.

"Oh. Um…" Wolf dropped the bag at the foot of his bed and unbuttoned his coat. "Nothing important."

Vash sat in the desk chair and began to untie his shoes. Untying was a lot easier than tying. "Those kids wore me out today. I must be really out of shape."

Wolf hung up his coat and sat down on the bed, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. Neko hopped onto his lap and started purring.

"I was thinking," Vash continued, "maybe we should go to the gym together, like you said before. It would help to have you there. Since I don't know what any of those machines do, anyway."

More silence. Then a nod. Wolf stroked Neko's fur, distantly.

"Wolf?" Vash ducked his head so their eyes were level. "Can we talk? I…I know I snapped at you the other day. You didn't deserve that. I was impatient with myself, and I got impatient with you. But I'm going to get the hang of this. And I've been thinking about what you said that night…"

Wolf covered his face with his hands and groaned. "About that," he said. "Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I…um…I screwed everything up. Just pretend like that never happened."

Vash scratched his head. "But…"

"Okay, here's the thing, Vash." Wolf spread his arms out wide, still not making eye contact. "I had this huge crush on you last year, and I took a lot of shit for granted, you know? Like, I just assumed you were interested in me 'cause we fooled around once or twice, and I thought—I thought we were together, or something, like Meryl and Millie, and then I got mad 'cause you didn't feel the same way, I guess, and then I said all that crap about moving out and I left and you got hurt and here we are." He let his hands drop to his sides, defeatedly. "Here we are. I royally fucked up everything. I wasn't there, and…and you almost d–died. All because of my stupid feelings."

His voice was watery, his face red. "Wolf?" Vash whispered.

"I'm not gonna put you through all that again," Wolf said, louder. "And I'm always going to be here. Always. So you don't have to worry. It doesn't matter to me if we were…if I was…if you were just experimenting, or whatever."

Vash flinched at the word _experimenting._

"We can just be friends," Wolf said. "Or just roommates, if you want. I'll stop pressuring you to do stuff you don't wanna do, and I won't assume things, and I won't touch you, and I won't get mad if you don't want to call me your boyfriend."

His voice trailed off, the last word barely a mumble. He stared at the cat curled up on his knees. He looked awful.

"Wolf?" Vash said after a pause. "You never let me finish."

Wolf lifted his chin imperceptibly and peered up at Vash. "Huh?"

Vash pulled the desk chair closer to the bed. "I've been thinking about what you said that night, because I feel the same way about you. I've just never been brave enough to say it like you did."

Wolf stared at him, and his mouth fell open. Then he drooped his head and muttered, "P—Please don't lie to make me feel better."

"I'm not lying." Vash reached out and touched Wolf's face, tentatively. His fingers traced the bristly part of Wolf's jaw, then pulled away. "And you weren't, either. I've thought about it every day. I thought about it this morning, at the church. And I thought about it just now, when I was talking to Meryl downstairs. I told her about my arm. About…hurting myself. I don't think I could have told her if you hadn't said those words to me before."

A look of recognition passed over Wolf's face. He watched Vash wordlessly, his eyes searching for an explanation, a catch.

But there was no catch. Vash leaned closer, their knees touching. Neko stretched and bounded away to curl up beside the heater. "I don't really understand what love is," Vash admitted. "For a long time, I didn't think that I could feel it. So this doesn't come naturally for me."

Wolf shook his head earnestly, his voice strained. "It doesn't have to. You don't have to—I don't want to make you—"

Vash leaned the rest of the way in and kissed him. Wolf made a quiet, surprised sound. His chin was scratchy, and his lips were soft, and his mouth opened almost instantly. Vash moved back, his heart pounding.

"I've never had a boyfriend," Vash said. "Or a girlfriend. I never really thought about it. But I like this. And I like you. If you want me to call you my boyfriend, then that's what you are." He slid his hand over Wolf's. "And I'm yours."

Wolf still looked like he couldn't believe what Vash was saying. Until Vash kissed him again. Until Vash climbed onto his lap and wrapped his arm around his back and laid his chin on his shoulder so Wolf could feel the warm whisper next to his ear, _I—love—you. _Then Wolf finally dared to lift his hands to Vash's face, and then Wolf was smiling, and he was laughing softly like he was embarrassed but he didn't look away this time, and his eyes were beautiful and Vash really did love him, so much.

This was what Rem had meant about love being powerful. This feeling of wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. This feeling of mortality and eternity all woven into one. Vash held onto Wolf as if he were afraid to let go, because the world was dangerous and terrible and people were so fragile and _he_ was so fragile, and if he let go, there was no guarantee that his one and only Wolf would still be with him tomorrow. Love was the frightening thread that sewed them together with strength enough to rip them apart. It didn't matter where it came from or why it existed. What mattered was what they chose to do with it.

"Hey." Vash skimmed his thumb under Wolf's eye. "That wasn't supposed to make you cry."

Wolf hid his face in Vash's jacket. His words came out muffled and warm against Vash's chest. "I'm just really happy. Nothing has ever felt this wonderful." That laugh again. Wolf raised his head. "I must sound pathetic."

"No." Vash combed his fingers through Wolf's hair, breathing in the smell of him. "You're perfect."

So Wolf pulled Vash's head down with both hands and pressed his mouth against Vash's lips. Vash closed his eyes. There was a kind of vulnerability in this gentle exchange. To see each other laid bare with emotion, no walls to hide behind. But there was also safety. A refuge in this room, on this bed, behind that closed door. Vash loosened the buttons of Wolf's collar and brushed his lips over Wolf's throat. Taking a shirt off was easier than putting one on. Sweaters and jackets were pushed to the side, shirts lifted and crumpled and eventually peeled away. Taking in personal landscapes of muscle and bone. Remembering valleys and ridges like a road leading home.

The two of them wrestled softly for a better vantage point. Even with Vash's unbalanced weight, Wolf didn't seem to put up much of a fight. On his back with his arms limp at his sides, like a dog baring its neck, he must have been content to trust Vash with whatever he decided to do next. Which was to simply hover over the surface of his skin, close enough to touch without touching, raising goosebumps in the wake of his every breath.

He really was beautiful. And kind and sweet and strong and _alive. _Vash would have been satisfied to watch him breathe for the rest of forever, except that Wolf seemed very much to want him closer, and when Vash leaned down and Wolf knotted his hands in his hair, Vash learned that he could make his favorite person moan with delight just by tasting the flavor of his skin. And it felt so good to roam over his body in this way, tracing a path with his mouth and his tongue and occasionally his teeth, that Vash lost himself in a sort of delirium until Wolf jolted and let out a sharp gasp.

"Sorry!" Vash sat up quickly. "Did I—did I hurt you?" There were marks on Wolf's chest that hadn't been there moments ago. Red, like bruises or burns. _Oh, God…_

He was terrible. He was disgusting.

"Vash?" Wolf was saying his name. Touching his face. "Hey. You didn't do anything wrong. I like it."

"But…" Vash kept staring at the marks, a phantom pain flaring in his left arm.

"It doesn't hurt," Wolf assured him, tugging lightly at his shoulders. "Please don't stop. That felt amazing."

Vash looked into his eyes. He wasn't pretending. Still…

"Do it to me first," Vash said.

Wolf lifted his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Vash nodded. "I need to know for a fact that you're not lying."

"Okay." Wolf sat up and looped his arms around Vash's waist. Then he nuzzled his face under Vash's chin and opened his mouth on his neck. Hot breath and soft pressure and the wet stroke of his tongue. A sharp little pinch that sent a shiver down the nape of his neck. And more heat.

"Do you want me to stop?" Wolf murmured.

Vash pressed his palm against Wolf's back, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. "Stay."

He did. And with a hunger for each other building in the sounds they spoke without words, they made their way to deeper places, shedding further layers, excavating new experiences while the evening light changed colors outside the window to their home, finally fading into blankets of purple and blue that cradled the night sky. Long after they fell asleep, gathered close under the covers, Vash would wake from some unknown nightmare to the safe embrace of Wolf's arms, his voice a calm reminder in the dark: _I'm right here. I'm right here._

_Everything's okay._

* * *

It was a beautiful morning. The most beautiful morning that Vash could recall. Not because of the weather—it was cloudy and cold—and not because of the location, either—it was the same room he'd woken up in every day since he got back from the hospital. Not because of anything, really, except for the sleeping boy on the pillow beside him, and the sheer joy of watching him open his eyes.

"I love you," Vash said, and the smile on Wolf's face was priceless.

"Not a dream?" Wolf asked in his raspy morning voice.

"Not a dream," Vash confirmed.

Wolf huddled close to Vash and laid his head on his chest. "Your heart's beating really fast."

"Yeah." Vash smoothed his hand over Wolf's hair. "It's all right, though."

After a moment, Wolf lifted himself up on one elbow and gazed down at Vash's face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but his mouth was sealed shut.

"So much for the spare bed," Vash said with a lopsided grin.

The wrinkle of concern vanished from Wolf's brow, and he laughed. "Are you telling me that Millie and I dragged that goddamn thing up three flights of stairs for nothing?"

Vash was beaming. "Sorry."

Wolf poked his nose. "I'm not gonna let you get away with it just because you're cute."

"We can sleep in that one on the weekdays," Vash suggested.

"Hmm. I guess." Wolf glanced over at the spare bed, which was currently occupied by the black cat. "Nevermind. Looks like Neko already claimed it."

A soft knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Wolf turned his head curiously.

"That's probably Meryl and Millie," Vash said. "We must have slept in late."

Wolf retrieved the nearest article of clothing—a pair of Vash's sweatpants—and wriggled into them. "I'll tell them we'll be ready in a few minutes."

"Okay." Vash caught hold of Wolf's hand. "I love you."

Wolf laughed and scratched the back of his neck, blushing heavily. "You don't have to say it every five seconds, you goofball."

He started toward the door, paused and turned around again. Then he bent down and kissed Vash deeply on the mouth. "I love you, too," he whispered. "Angel."

Vash felt like the luckiest person alive. He smiled at Wolf with an uncanny mixture of pride and adoration. He watched as Wolf ambled to the door, stretching and yawning. He watched as Wolf opened the door and raised his hand to greet Meryl and Millie.

He watched as Wolf went completely rigid, frozen in mid-gesture.

Out in the hall, there was a person Vash had never seen before. He was taller than Wolf, but he couldn't have been much older. He had light, shaggy hair that came down to his chin, but it was buzzed short on one side. And all down the side of his forehead, between his left ear and his eye, he had a terrible scar on his face. A burn that he must have had since childhood.

Wolf stood there in silence, not moving a muscle. At last, the stranger spoke. One word, faltering and apprehensive. A question. A name.

"Nicholas?"


	18. The Sound of Thunder

_I used to find myself thinking about him at the strangest times. Lacing my shoes or paying for groceries. Folding the laundry. Shaving. I'd open a book that smelled like the dusty old library at St. Michael's, or hear a church bell that reminded me of the clock tower, and there I'd be on the lawn with the bright October leaves falling around us, studying scriptures and falling asleep with my head on his shoulder. I could look up at the sky and remember the pattern of the clouds sailing over the courtyard. I could turn to the Epistle to the Ephesians and see every word of his pencilled cursive trailing down along the margins. I wondered if he'd found a good place to live, with good people in it. And I hoped, a little, that he thought of me sometimes._

_ But I never expected to see him again._

* * *

Nicholas stood at the edge of the lawn, clenching and unclenching his fists. The new kid had arrived at St. Michael's only yesterday, and already a group of older boys encircled him like vultures looming over a kill. Even from this distance, Nicholas recognized their profiles. It was the same group that had harassed him throughout his first year. There was Caine, the tall one with beady eyes, then Eli and Zazie, an inseparable pair of bullies who were also the most androgynous-looking people Nicholas had ever seen. The new kid was sitting on the ground with his arms around his knees, crying.

"What's the matter, crybaby?" Zazie's shrill voice echoed across the lawn. "Didja wet the bed last night?"

No response from the boy on the ground. It was as if he didn't know they were there.

"Hey. We're talking to you." Eli prodded his shoulder with one foot, and the boy shrank back suddenly, curling up tighter.

Zazie laughed. "What the hell? You barely touched him."

They took turns nudging him with their toes, shrieking with peals of laughter every time the boy recoiled.

"God, he really is a baby."

"Maybe he's, you know…_slow_. Are you just gonna keep poking him, Eli?"

"I can't stop. It's like bubble wrap. You gotta try this, Caine."

Nicholas felt the blood rushing to his face. _Stop it. Please just stop._

Caine had been silent the whole time. He leaned over the new kid slowly, hands in his pockets, expressionless. Nicholas shuddered. Eli and Zazie were annoying, but Caine was downright scary. _Run away, _he wanted to yell at the boy. _Run run run run run._

A painful cry rang out as Caine threw a kick into the boy's side.

_Oh, no._

"Jesus, Caine. You're making him wail."

Nicholas fought the urge to flee the scene. He'd endured their bullying for months, and they'd finally chosen a new victim. Was he really about to divert their attention back to himself, all for someone he'd never met before?

Caine kicked the boy harder, and Nicholas let his satchel fall from his shoulder.

_No question about it._

He charged across the lawn, screaming at the top of his lungs, and shoved Caine with both arms outstretched.

Caine teetered about two centimeters before regaining his balance.

"Oh, my _God,_" Eli laughed.

"St—stop it!" Nicholas yelled, his voice cracking. "Leave him alone!"

"What are you going to d-d-do about it, freak?" Zazie taunted.

Nicholas grabbed Zazie's wrist and twisted it sharply.

"Ow! Fuck! Ow ow ow! Eli, do something!"

"Seriously? What if I break a nail?"

Caine punched Nicholas hard in the face, and he staggered backward, releasing Zazie's arm. Nicholas saw stars for a moment, his head throbbing, a cut opening in his mouth. Then his vision cleared, and he spat the blood from his lip. "Who t—taught you how to punch, Caine? Your little s—sister?"

_That was stupid._ Nicholas instantly regretted speaking as Caine seized him by the neck and slammed his back against a brick wall. He clawed at Caine's hands, unable to breathe.

Eli tugged at Caine's sleeve. "Hey. You're gonna kill him."

"So what?" Zazie scoffed, rubbing their wrist. "Little shit deserves it."

Eli snorted and turned to leave. "Whatever. I'm not helping you hide the body."

Nicholas swung his fists at Caine's face, but his arms weren't long enough to make contact. He kicked blindly, his strength draining with every motion. Black splotches overpowered his vision as Caine's thumbs pressed further into his throat.

Maybe this was it. Nicholas had always believed in heaven. But he also believed in hell, and he was pretty sure he knew which one he would go to when he died. Either way, he'd soon find out.

Suddenly the pressure released from his throat and he collapsed on the ground with a ragged gasp. Caine doubled over, holding his crotch and groaning. Behind him, the new kid stood silent and expressionless.

"You're gonna pay!" Zazie hollered. But as soon as the boy took a step toward them, Zazie shied away, eyes fearful. "Let's get out of here, Caine. This kid is psychotic."

They headed across the lawn, hurling threats at Nicholas and the new kid, until they were out of sight. Nicholas coughed, still trying to catch his breath.

"You should have—should have run away," Nicholas told the boy in a hoarse whisper.

The boy stared at the ground. He had light blonde hair that needed a trim, and his school uniform was a little too loose on his thin frame.

Nicholas braced his hands on his knees and stood up slowly. "Are you okay?" he asked, approaching the new kid cautiously.

The boy nodded, though he must have been in pain. Nicholas was worried that Caine might have broken one of his ribs. "Are you sure?"

When the boy looked up, Nicholas saw that he had different colored eyes: one blue and one brown. "I'll be fine," he said quietly.

His voice was soft and high. It hadn't changed yet. Nicholas tried not to stare at his eyes. "You shouldn't let them see you cry," Nicholas said. "I might not be there to stop them next time."

The boy shrugged. His tears had dried, but he looked as if he might start crying again at any minute. Nicholas felt guilty. He wasn't being very nice. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, this boy might have just saved his life.

"That was one hell of a kick. Did you see the look on Caine's face?" Nicholas pulled a grimace and bent over, whimpering. The boy laughed. Nicholas stood up straight and held out his hand.

"I'm Nicholas."

The new kid took his hand, shyly. "My name's Livio."

Nicholas smiled. And he realized that the whole time he'd been talking to Livio, he had hardly stuttered at all.

In the days that followed, the two of them were rarely seen apart. Livio still cried a lot, and it took some time for Nicholas to understand, but he never left Livio's side. Instead, he invented new ways to make Livio smile. All the while his voice growing clearer, stronger. Nicholas quit skipping classes, because classes meant homework, and homework meant studying with Livio, and there was something about Livio that made him feel tremendously alive. Sharing the same book in the library, hands brushing over the pages, or leaning back to back under the maple tree in the courtyard, dozing off in the autumn-spiced air. Nicholas had no name for the slightly queasy feeling in his stomach, the restlessness at night, the longing. His senses were overworking themselves. He was gloriously uncomfortable.

Nicholas became a more devout Catholic than ever before. He pretended to sing in the choir, just so he could listen to Livio's voice. He attended Mass dutifully, so that he might catch Livio's brown-blue gaze during the Communion rite, a secret smile when their lips touched the same chalice, receiving the Blood of Christ, reciting the words as if to each other: _I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed._

One day, they met in the courtyard and Livio held out a bible to Nicholas. "Ephesians," he whispered, and left Nicholas standing with the book in his hands.

Nicholas waited until that night to open it. In the light of a single candle, lying in his bed after everyone else had fallen asleep, he turned the pages silently. There, under the heading of the epistle, Livio's wispy handwriting filled every margin. A letter, addressed to Nicholas. He passed his finger under each word slowly, lingering over the shape of them with his eyes, tasting the form of them on his lips. He followed the words to Livio's signature at the end of the sixth chapter. Then he turned back to the beginning and read them over again.

He returned the bible to Livio the next day. He hadn't slept all night. With a smile too great to smother, Nicholas whispered, "Psalms."

Looking back, it was hard to believe that it had only lasted a month. In Wolf's memory, the two boys seemed to have shared their own personal eternity. But he knew that reality had been much crueler when he was Nicholas, when he'd lost his best friend in the blink of an eye, and maybe the pain had been so severe that he'd forced himself to forget the most beautiful details of their happiness.

In any case, he remembered them now.

* * *

Wolf stared at the man in the hallway. He was taller now. Much taller. And stronger. He must have spent the last seven years in a gym, to have arms like that. His voice was deep, his bristly jaw squared out. No trace of the soft, boyish face that Nicholas had known. Wolf wouldn't have recognized him at all, if it wasn't for that unmistakable scar, the skin rippled and misshapen along his left temple. And those eyes. _Lord._ It really was him.

"L…Li…v…" The name was trapped in Wolf's throat. He was thirteen all over again and he was nervous and scared and so, so bad with words.

The grown-up Livio blinked his eyes and shook his head slightly. "The R.A. girl said you lived here, but…I didn't think…I didn't know. My God. It is you, isn't it? Nicholas."

Wolf nodded. "A—Actually…it's Wolf now."

Livio's mouth broke into a faint smile. As if he wanted to be happy, but something was stopping him. "Do you remember me?"

_Every day of my life, whether I like it or not. _"Of—of course." Wolf felt himself blushing. "It's just…it's been s—so many years."

"Yeah." The smile faded. "I guess a lot of things have changed." Livio gazed at Wolf for a moment. "But you haven't changed a bit."

Wolf didn't know what he was feeling. Livio glanced over Wolf's shoulder, into the room. "So," he said, "you, uh…have a roommate?"

At this, Wolf's blood ran cold. He spun around to see Vash, half-dressed, peering out at the stranger in the hall. Wolf fumbled for an explanation. _Two guys. No shirts. An unmade bed. There has to be a way to justify this._

But before he could come up with a decent lie, Vash came closer and held out his hand to Livio. "My name is Vash. I'm Wolf's boyfriend."

Livio stared at him, speechless. Wolf's mouth went dry. He would have prayed for God to strike him down right there in Chapel Hall, but it wouldn't have made any difference. He was already in hell.

This really couldn't have happened at a worse time.

"Oh," Livio said after a long pause.

The three of them stood there, avoiding one another's eyes, until there were footsteps in the stairwell and Millie's voice sang out in the hall, "Mr. Livio! You found them! Did they show you where the…bathrooms…are…?" Her energetic pace slowed to a halt as she approached the door. Meryl caught up behind her, a horrified look on her face.

Finally, Millie broke the silence, hands on her hips.. "Mr. Wolfwood! Mr. Vash! For goodness' sake, put some clothes on!"

* * *

Much to Wolf's dismay, Meryl and Millie insisted on Livio joining them for breakfast. They ate in the refectory, with the R.A. girls on one side of the table and Wolf perched awkwardly between Vash and Livio on the other. Wolf took one sip of his coffee and felt sick. He had no appetite whatsoever.

"So you and Livio knew each other in high school?" Meryl asked, pointing a forkful of pancakes in Wolf's direction.

"Um, yeah." Wolf shrugged. "It was a private school, though. We were more like seventh graders."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Livio scooting hashbrowns around on his plate. Livio had barely spoken since Vash had introduced himself in the hall. Wolf was certain that he'd only come along with them to be polite.

"Did you move here from December, too, Mr. Livio?" Millie asked.

Livio shook his head. "I wasn't at St. Michael's for very long. My family just kind of passed me around until I was old enough to live on my own." His knee accidentally touched Wolf's, and he immediately shifted away. "I transferred here from U. of J."

"That's funny! Mr. Vash transferred from July last semester!"

Wolf felt Vash squirm a little beside him. Livio cast an uneasy glance at him, then looked away again.

Meryl sought desperately to diffuse the tension. "What are you studying?" she asked Livio.

"Psychology."

"Oh? Do you want to be a therapist?"

"I don't know yet. I think I'd rather go into research." Livio shot a glare at Wolf. "I'd like to understand why people do the things they do."

Wolf felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck. _What the hell was that supposed to mean?_ And what was Livio's problem, anyway? He had walked out of Wolf's life seven years ago, with no explanations. He'd left Nicholas out in the cold, at the time when he most needed a friend. So what if Wolf had moved on? So what if he had a boyfriend? Wasn't he allowed to have some goddamned happiness, for once in his life?

"Excuse me," Wolf said, rising to his feet. "Sorry. I'm not feeling well."

"But you haven't eaten anything yet," Millie protested.

Meryl frowned. "You do look sort of feverish, Wolf. Maybe you should go to the clinic."

Wolf shook his head. "I'll be fine. Just need some fresh air, that's all." He refused to look at Livio.

Vash tugged gently at his sleeve. "Want me to go with you?" he asked in a quiet voice that only Wolf could hear.

Wolf answered him in the same private tone. "No, that's okay. Stay here and eat a doughnut for me. It'll make Millie happy." He wanted to give Vash a kiss, but he couldn't do that here. Not now. Instead he gave Vash a sideways smile and waved to Meryl and Millie and walked out of the refectory with a growing ache in his heart.

It had happened so long ago. Such a small part of his life. _I'm not going to let you waltz in here and ruin everything. I'm not._

Wolf paused in the empty stairwell, his chest heaving. He slammed his fist against the stone wall. The sound echoed as pain shot up his arm, tingling numbly in the side of his palm.

Why, after all this time? Why now? And why did it still hurt so much?

It really shouldn't hurt this much.

Wolf opened the door to Room 206. He gazed at the unmade bed for a moment, remembering how happy he'd been less than twenty-four hours ago. How he'd thought that things couldn't possibly get any better.

He had been right. Things could only get worse, from now on.

Underneath a blanket that had been kicked to the floor, Wolf found the plastic bag from the convenience store. He took out the unopened pack of cigarettes and shoved it in his pocket with his lighter. Then he locked the door and left.

* * *

Rain, heavy and cold. It rattled on the thin metal roof of the shed and dripped through a leak in the ceiling, forming a puddle on the cracked concrete floor. Wolf stared out the open door at the falling raindrops, the darkening sky. As thunder rumbled overhead, a figure emerged from the downpour.

"I've been looking all over for you." Vash stepped into the shed, soaking wet. He peeled back his hood and shook the water from his hair.

"Sorry." Wolf grimaced. "I didn't mean to make you worry. C'mere, take your jacket off. I'll trade you mine."

Vash pulled his jacket over his head with some effort, and Wolf wrung it out under the eaves of the roof. As he draped it over a tool bench, Vash sniffed the air and said, "You've been smoking."

"Um. Yeah." Wolf took off his sweater, unwilling to meet Vash's eyes. "I'm sorry."

He braced himself for a lecture, but Vash's reply was unexpectedly mild. "There's a lot of flammable stuff in here. You should go outside, next time."

Wolf felt a twist of remorse. He held out his sweater to Vash, and watched as Vash negotiated the sleeves.

"Can I help?" Wolf asked softly.

Vash hesitated, then nodded. "Mmhm."

Wolf eased the hem of the sweater down around Vash's waist, then tied the left sleeve in a knot under his arm. He rested his hands on Vash's hips for a moment, not wanting to let go. "Warmer?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Another roll of thunder outside. The rain pounded harder. Wolf lost himself in Vash's calm blue eyes, breathing deeply. He leaned closer, inch by inch, until their lips came together and for just a little while, Wolf could forget that there was anything else in the world except for the rain and the shed and the boy in his arms.

He raked his fingers through Vash's wet hair and rested his head on Vash's shoulder. "I don't deserve you," Wolf mumbled. "I never did."

"That's funny coming from you," Vash said, pulling back a little. "I seem to remember causing you a lot of trouble, last semester."

Wolf buried his face under Vash's chin. He just felt like hiding, here in the safest place he knew, with the safest person. Vash traced soothing circles on his back, but the sickening feeling in Wolf's stomach only grew worse.

"Vash…I'm not a good person."

"What are you talking about? You're the best person I know."

He shut his eyes. "You don't know who I was be—before."

Vash was quiet.

"A lot of bad shit happened in December. My father used to…used to, um…shove me around. Anyway, I wasn't—wasn't normal. Wasn't right. I ended up…Vash, I pulled a gun on him, when all was said and done. That was the only way to…to get out of there. And I kept thinking, if I ran away far enough, it would never catch up. It would just d—disappear." Wolf sniffed. "But it's catching up. It's coming back."

Vash seemed distant, trapped in his own thoughts. Wolf already regretted opening his mouth. Then Vash laid his hand on Wolf's head. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'm gonna be here, either way." A crack of lightning made the walls shudder, but Vash's embrace was warm and reassuring. "Rem taught me something, a long time ago. Back in the hospital, I'd almost forgotten it. But you reminded me. The past doesn't have to hold us back." He lifted Wolf's head slightly, and kissed him between the eyes. "Our ticket to the future is always blank."

Wolf grasped the faintest thread of a memory, those same whispered words that Vash had let slip once before. Their significance had escaped Wolf at the time, but now he understood.

He leaned on Vash's shoulder as they watched the rain come down outside.

"I wonder if it will ever let up," Vash said.

Wolf felt for his hand and held on tight. "I'm sure it will, eventually."

* * *

That night, Wolf packed his books into his satchel and folded his clothes for work the next morning. Classes would begin tomorrow, and Wolf was determined to make this year a better one than the last. No more failing grades or falling behind. He was going to work toward his dream.

Wolf looked over at Vash, who was blithely absorbed in some computer game with music blasting in his earphones. He would probably be up half the night, and Wolf would have to drag him out of bed to get him to class on time. Wolf smiled faintly. As long as Vash was happy, he knew things would work out somehow.

He opened the door and headed for the bathroom with his toothbrush and towel. The hall was dark and gloomy as usual. Wolf stopped a moment and glanced over his shoulder. He thought he felt a draft.

"Hello?" Wolf called out. There was no haze of eerie light, none of the usual whispers. But he could have sworn he felt a presence…

A hand gripped his arm, and Wolf gasped through his teeth, lurching backward. The grip was too strong for him to escape. "Let go!" Wolf shouted.

"I'd watch my back if I were you," a deep voice said, so close that Wolf could feel their breath on his face.

"Wha—What are you—?"

"Not everyone is who they appear to be, Nicholas."

Wolf squinted in the dark. "L—Livio?"

The hand released him, and Wolf spun around, searching blindly for a sign of where the person had gone. Not a sound in the pitch black hallway. Whoever it was, they had vanished.

Wolf rubbed his arm. Only one person here—one _living_ person—would have called him by that name. But that voice…it couldn't have belonged to the same Livio he'd sat with in the refectory that morning.

Could it?

With an exasperated sigh, Wolf stretched out his hands and felt his way back down the hall. Maybe the ghosts had learned some new tricks over their winter vacation. In any case, Wolf needed to get some rest.


	19. Not a Saint

_Nigh said I trusted people too easily. I hesitated to pass judgment on them, and that hesitation made me weak. That hesitation nearly got us killed. I needed to stay behind this time, he said. He was going to get help. He was going to find a way to save us. I had to believe that he would come back. After all, he'd left the gun with me. To protect myself. He couldn't have planned to be gone for so long._

_ I waited patiently. I stayed exactly where he'd left me, so that I'd be there when he returned. Even after the last of the food ran out. Even when the air grew so cold I could see my breath._

_ Maybe Nigh was right. I'd trusted him, just like I'd trusted Rem and Dr. Conrad and all the other people we grew up with. I do trust people. I trust them because I like them so much. Because I want them to be good. Because no matter how many times they lie or steal or hurt one other, I never want them to leave me alone._

_ I don't like being alone._

* * *

Vash caught up with Millie, just as she was heading out the atrium door. "Wait up!" he called.

Millie turned around. "Hey, Mr. Vash. Ready for class?"

"Almost. I can't find my sketchbook, though. Have you seen it?"

She shook her head. "Maybe you left it in our room. I'll go check…"

"No, don't worry about it. It's not a big deal." Vash scratched his head. "Geez, I can't keep track of anything lately."

"Professor Leonof should let you make up the assignment," Millie said as they walked outside in the frosty morning air.

Vash shuddered. "That guy gives me the creeps. Can't see his eyes behind those spooky spectacles." He circled his fingers around his eyes and fixed an eerie gaze on Millie. She laughed loudly.

"Well, it's not too late to drop. I need another art credit for my minor, but there's nothing keeping you there, right?"

Vash looked flabbergasted. "I couldn't just leave you all alone with Professor Creepy-Eyes!" Millie laughed again. "Besides," Vash continued, "this is fun. I like taking classes with my friends."

Millie's smile was brighter than the sunlight glittering on the icy sidewalk. "That's really sweet, Mr. Vash. I like taking classes with you, too."

Halfway to the art building, Neko crossed paths with them, nearly tripping Vash. He sulked as the black cat twirled affectionately around Millie's ankles. "I swear, that cat has it out for me," Vash pouted.

"What? Pepper wouldn't hurt a soul," Millie said, stroking the cat's fur.

Vash tilted his head. "That's funny. Wolf told me its name was Neko."

Millie shrugged. "Everyone has different names for it. The cat's been here longer than any of us. Meryl calls it Midnight, but I think Pepper sounds cuter."

"Way cuter," Vash agreed. _Not that the little furball deserves it, _he thought, but he didn't say that out loud.

Still, he couldn't help reaching out his hand to see if the cat would accept it this time. _Cats are a lot like people. You never know what to expect from them. _The cat—Neko, or Midnight, or Pepper—sniffed his hand cautiously, whiskers twitching. Vash braced himself for a scratch, but to his surprise, the cat bumped its head against his palm, enjoying the attention.

"See?" Millie grinned.

Vash felt the warmth of the cat's fur. Together with the warmth of the sun, it thawed him from the inside out. He smiled, too, genuinely. Gaining another creature's trust was something that filled him with an inexplicable sense of worth.

If a cat could trust him, maybe he wasn't such a bad person after all.

His spirits lifted, Vash found conversation much easier on the rest of their walk to class. They played a game of Which Animal Would You Rather Be Reincarnated As, and speculated over what Meryl and Wolf's choices would be, and Vash had all but forgotten his missing homework until they reached the classroom only to find his sketchbook lying neatly on the desk where he usually sat.

Vash stepped toward the desk, confused. "It was here all along?"

"You probably just forgot to take it home," Millie sat down and began to unpack her bag.

"But I did the homework…" His voice trailed off as the other students filed into the room. It wouldn't have been the first time his memory had played tricks on him. Just the other day, Wolf had to remind him which room number was theirs. And on more than one occasion, Vash had woken up with no recollection of his time in the hospital, completely convinced that he still had the use of both arms. Those were the most difficult mornings.

The arrival of the professor signaled the beginning of class. "Please hand in the contour drawings I assigned last period," the professor said, getting right to the point. "You will be graded on precision and craftsmanship. Neglect of these criteria will result in a failing grade."

Millie shuddered and lined her ruler up on her sketchbook, tearing out the page one centimeter at a time. Vash flipped through his sketchbook—might as well check to be sure—and then he froze.

The assignment was there, just as he remembered. That wasn't the shocking part.

What he didn't remember was the hateful word splashed across the page in permanent black ink, completely obscuring his drawing.

He slammed the book shut, but it was too late. Millie was staring at him, wide-eyed. "Vash?" she whispered.

Vash looked away, unresponsive. He kept his hand firmly on the cover of his sketchbook. The word screamed in his brain, over and over.

_What did I do? What was I thinking?_

"Vash? Millie?" Professor Leonof rapped on the desk they shared. "Have you anything to produce?"

Millie handed up her homework, nudging Vash with her elbow. Vash stared straight ahead.

"I didn't do the assignment," he said.

"Vash!" Millie whispered, louder.

"This will be your third consecutive failure since the beginning of the semester," Professor Leonof said. "Unless you have something to turn in, you will be forced to drop the class."

Vash shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry."

"Very well. Please gather your things—"

"But he _did_ the homework, sir!" Millie stood up, pointing to the sketchbook in Vash's steel grip. "Someone sabotaged it!"

"Millie," Vash said quietly, "please don't."

"It's true!" She spun around, glaring at their classmates. "Which one of you did it? Which one of you is picking on Mr. Vash?"

Nobody spoke. Millie looked positively murderous. _Could she be right? _Vash thought. He didn't know anybody else in this class. Had he hurt someone, and forgotten? Had he done something so bad that another person would want him to drop the class?

"I've had enough of this spectacle," Professor Leonof declared. "I want both of you out of my classroom, this instant."

Vash spoke up. "This isn't her fault, sir—"

"Don't bother to come back."

Millie frowned sternly at the professor. "We won't!" She put a protective arm around Vash's shoulders as he shuffled out of the room. Vash felt a cold weight sinking into his stomach.

At the door, Millie turned to hurl one last insult. "I'm going to leave a negative review on your faculty profile, Professor Creepy-Eyes!" She slammed the door behind her for effect. "Good riddance," she huffed.

Vash bowed his head miserably.

"Are you okay, Mr. Vash?"

"I…I can't believe it. I got us both kicked out. I'm so sorry, Millie."

Millie held her chin high, leading the way down the hall to the stairwell. "I didn't like that stupid class anyway. The so-called professor doesn't even know how to teach. Besides, Meryl and I looked him up online, and guess what?" She grinned slyly. "Professor Leonof used to do these cheesy anti-drug puppet shows at Augusta Elementary."

"No way."

"Yes way. And they were totally _bad._ I knew I recognized his face from somewhere. You should have heard Meryl laugh." She reached for Vash's hand, and her eyes flickered in a rare moment of absolute sincerity. "None of this was your fault. Okay?"

Vash blinked at her, taken off-guard. "Okay."

Millie's face brightened instantly. "So that's the end of that. Whoever thought they were being funny will just have to find someone else to bully. Right?"

Vash hesitated. He still felt confused, and a little shaken. But Millie was right. It was over now.

And that should have been the end, but it wasn't.

* * *

Next to go missing was his science notebook. Pages of homework torn out, only to resurface in the urinal. Then the books he'd checked out from the library, defaced and ruined. He could only pretend that he'd lost them so many times before his library card was revoked. Then…important things began to disappear. His room key. His student ID. His art portfolio from last year. And a photo. A picture of Vash and Wolf that Meryl had taken over Thanksgiving break. It was the only photograph he had of the two of them together, and now it was gone.

He couldn't bring himself to tell Wolf. But it was only a matter of time before Wolf began to suspect something was wrong. Vash had never had trouble keeping up with his homework before. This semester, he'd missed so many assignments that he was in danger of failing all his classes. One night, Wolf checked Vash's backpack to make sure he'd packed his homework. That was how he found out.

"Vash? What's this doing in here?"

Wolf had pulled out an old-looking book with a black leather cover. Vash didn't recognize it at all. "I don't know," he answered honestly.

"This is mine. Don't take it, alright?"

Vash hunched his shoulders. "Sorry." Losing things was bad enough. But stealing things from Wolf?

"I know it's strange, but this book is really important to me. It was given to me by someone very—"

Wolf stopped talking. He had opened the book and he was staring at the pages. Without having to look, Vash knew why he'd gone stiff. And he knew he couldn't hide it anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Wolf. I thought it was just with my stuff. I don't remember doing it. I just lose things, and then they turn up ruined. I'm sorry…"

For a moment, Wolf said nothing. Vash could see his hands shaking, his face turning red. When Wolf finally spoke, it came out in a raw whisper. "You think _you_ did this?"

Vash bit his lip. "I don't know. I don't remember. But it's the only thing that makes sense…"

Wolf's eyes narrowed. "Is this why you haven't been turning in your homework? Is this…God, Vash. The library fines? Your _key?_"

"I didn't want to bother you," Vash said quickly. "I already got Millie in trouble, and…I didn't want to start causing problems for you again. That was the last thing I wanted." His voice lowered to a mumble, talking more to himself than to Wolf. "I'm not lying. I don't think I'm lying."

Meanwhile, Wolf had grown very quiet. He kept the book open in his hands, staring at the pages for a long time. Then he passed his hand over his face, closed the book and set it aside.

"Wolf, I'm so sorry."

Vash was sure that he saw Wolf flinch.

"Cut it out, Spiky." Wolf took a step toward Vash and ruffled his hair with a limp hand. "I'm not angry."

His voice was completely unconvincing.

_You can't go one week without screwing things up, can you?_

"Let's forget about it tonight." Wolf smiled weakly. "You need to get some sleep and go to class, so you can start helping me with _my_ homework again."

_He's not going to trust you anymore._

Wolf put his arms around Vash when they got into bed, but Vash couldn't sleep. He felt unspeakably ashamed. One by one, his worst fears bubbled to the surface.

_You're going to keep hurting people. You're going to lose your friends. They're going to leave you._

_ Wolf is going to leave you._

Vash shut his eyes, but that only made the voice grow louder. There was a burning pain where his left wrist should have been. And the voice had taken on a sinister tone.

_You're a dangerous man, Vash the Stampede. A ticking time bomb. Doesn't this seem a little too familiar? Someone gets hurt, and you can't remember where you've been or what you've done. Who will it be next time? Meryl?_

Vash disentangled himself from Wolf's embrace, careful not to wake him. A square of moonlight touched the edge of Wolf's face. Vash wanted to smooth the hair from his forehead, but that probably would not have been wise.

_If you care about them, you should leave them while you can._

Very softly, Vash began to hum a tuneless melody under his breath. He found his jacket on the floor and put it on. Then he started to lace his shoes.

_It's better this way. You can disappear without a trace. It wouldn't be the first time._

By now, he'd learned to do it quickly. Holding one shoelace in his teeth made it easier to manipulate the other. Vash tiptoed across the room and opened the door as soundlessly as he could. He took one last look at Wolf before closing the door behind him.

Chapel Hall was pitch dark and lifeless. The stone stairwell was even colder at night. Vash welcomed the chill on his skin.

_You deserve to be cold. You deserve to be alone._

He hummed a bit louder as he crossed the empty atrium and pushed open the heavy door. The wintry air sent shivers down his back. It was a calm night, and the full moon lit up the frosty campus with an otherworldly glow.

Vash began to run.

The cold burned his lungs at first. His breath steamed in clouds of vapor. Every step felt like a small shockwave at his heels. He hadn't run like this in weeks, and he still wasn't used to the uneven distribution of his weight. A couple of times, his shoe caught a patch of ice and he skidded to one side, struggling to maintain his balance.

_Don't stop. Just keep going._

Soon he reached a steady rhythm that carried him past the dormitories and the parking lots and the library, out over empty lawns until the streetlights disappeared and he found himself in a neighborhood he no longer recognized. Quiet houses lined with trees, shading out the moonlight. As his surroundings became less and less familiar, Vash lost track of how long he'd been running, how far he'd come. It didn't matter. He just wanted to keep moving.

He ran until he could scarcely breathe. Until his sides ached and his feet were blistered and sore. He ran until the voice was drowned out by his own heartbeat, pounding insistently in his brain. At last, his legs gave way and he fell to his knees at a roadside stop sign. He had come to the top of a hill, and over the tree line he could see the first pale rays of dawn.

For several minutes, all Vash could do was sit there, gasping for air. But after some time, he caught his breath enough to relax. The feeling of the frozen earth registered against his legs, the feeling of the cold sweat on his face. He watched a distant line of clouds moving in from the north. He listened for sounds, but there was nothing to hear.

The silence was beautiful.

Vash stood up and stretched. Then he turned around and began to walk back the way he came. The way that led to Augusta University and Chapel Hall and Meryl and Millie and Wolf. The way home.

He wondered if Rem could see him now. He had never dared to think about it before. But for the first time, he felt that she might have been proud of him.

The voice hadn't gone away. It might never go away. But Vash was learning new ways to live with it, and that's what would have made Rem smile.

* * *

Millie had already started her morning shift at the R.A. desk when Vash got back to Chapel Hall. Vash waved to her and she jumped a little, surprised.

"What's the matter?" Vash asked. "I don't look that bad, do I?"

"Of course not," Millie answered, shaking her head. "I just wasn't expecting to see you. Mr. Wolfwood said you'd gone to class early."

"Nah, I just went for a run. I have to shower and get my books and stuff. Is Wolf still here?"

"Um…he's…" Millie stalled, her face creased with worry. "He should be down here any minute. I think he was on his way to work."

"Perfect." Vash smiled, heading for the stairwell. "I'll catch him on his way out."

"Wait!" Millie practically leapt in front of Vash to block his path. "Uh…why don't you wait down here, Mr. Vash? I'm sure he won't be long."

"That's okay. I need to borrow Wolf's key, so…" His voice trailed off as Millie bit her lip, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. "Is something wrong, Millie?"

"Nothing's wrong!" She giggled nervously. "But…I can't let you go up there."

Something was definitely wrong. "What? Why not?"

"Because…because…" Millie stammered, then her eyes flicked up at Vash. "Because Mr. Wolfwood is already in the shower!"

Vash stared at her. "Is that all?" A laugh escaped his lips, and he winked at Millie confidentially. "No problem. We can share."

With that, he started determinedly up the stairs. Millie floundered after him, tugging urgently at his sleeve. "Wait, Mr. Vash, I really don't think that's a good idea—"

Her grip was strong, but Vash managed to wriggle free. He darted up to the second floor and stopped at the landing. There was a commotion going on in the hallway. Two students had gotten into a fight, one of which Vash immediately recognized as Wolf.

"If I _ever_ catch you in my room, I swear to _God_ I'll make you wish you were born a eunuch. Now give it back!"

Wolf swung his fist. It was a poorly aimed punch, and it made an unsettling crack when it connected with his opponent's jaw. Vash knew it must have hurt Wolf as much as it hurt the other boy, but Wolf was reaching back again, aiming for another hit.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," the other student said calmly. Vash realized it was the new guy who'd moved in across the hall from them, Wolf's old friend from grade school. What was his name again?

"Quit playing dumb, you stuck-up bastard!" Wolf threw a punch into his abdomen, and the other boy recoiled slightly. "Just what the fuck makes you think you're so much better than us? Because you kept up the sainthood act your whole life?" Wolf was shouting so loudly that his voice was going hoarse. The other boy was big enough that he could have taken Wolf down easily, but he looked like he'd already taken a heavy beating. And as Wolf kept hurling his bloodied knuckles at his former friend's face, Vash could see why: he wasn't bothering to defend himself. He wasn't fighting back at all.

"Wolf, stop it!" Vash unfroze from his hiding place and sprang after them. "Stop hitting him!"

At the sound of his voice, Wolf's head snapped up and his eyes widened momentarily. "Vash…" But when Vash came closer, Wolf's expression turned to something between protective and threatening. "Stay back. I don't want this son of a bitch to do anything else to you."

The taller boy laughed bitterly. "I never did anything to your precious fucktoy."

Wolf lunged at him with an unintelligible roar, slinging his elbow into the boy's collarbone and eliciting a sharp cry of pain. Vash grabbed Wolf by the shoulder, trying to pull him back.

"What are you doing?" Vash yelled. "You can't hurt people like that, Wolf!"

"Don't you get it?" Wolf growled. "Livio's the asshole that's been stealing your shit and trying to get you in trouble."

"I'm not—" Livio wheezed, still reeling from Wolf's attack. "I didn't—"

Wolf landed a kick under Livio's kneecap, wrenching his arm from Vash's grip. Vash wasn't going to be able to stop Wolf on his own. He looked over his shoulder at Millie, who was still standing at the end of the hallway, watching speechlessly.

"Millie, help!" Vash pleaded. "Help me stop him!"

A curious look came over Millie's face. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, her eyes searching the floor.

"Millie? Why…why are you just standing there? You're the R.A., tell them to—"

"I'm sorry, Vash." Millie glanced up at him briefly. Her face was eerily solemn, just like it had been the day she'd stood up for him in Professor Leonof's class. "Mr. Wolfwood is right."

Vash's blood ran cold. He stared in disbelief as Millie turned away, unable to watch but unwilling to put an end to the fight. He looked back at Wolf, who was beating another human being senseless before his very eyes. What was the matter with his friends?

Before Wolf could throw another punch at Livio, Vash threw himself between the two of them. Wolf's fist clipped the side of Vash's face before he could stop it, and pain radiated through Vash's cheekbone.

"Shit!" Wolf's face went ashen. "Vash, I told you to get out of the way!"

"And I told you to stop!" Vash raised his voice to match Wolf's angered pitch. "What the hell is wrong with you, Wolf? He said he didn't do anything, so leave him alone!"

Wolf stared at Vash, his mouth hanging open. "You can't be serious. You…you don't seriously think…" His gaze travelled from Vash to Livio and back again. "Vash, he's _lying._ He's bullying you because of me…he's just too chicken to confront me about it."

Livio twitched noticeably.

"So leave him to me," Wolf said, his raw fury sobering to a cold contempt. "We can settle this here and now."

Vash stood his ground. "No."

Wolf seemed not to hear, his eyes burning into Livio's, so Vash repeated himself. "No." He put his hand on Livio's shoulder, shielding him. "It's over, Wolf. Not another step."

Vash could see Wolf's hands shaking, still curled into fists. He was holding back, but it was only for Vash's sake. Tension hung in the air like static electricity, until Wolf muttered to Livio, "You should be thanking him for your consciousness right now."

Livio's two-toned eyes slid over to Vash, then down to the hand on his shoulder. "Take your filthy hand off of me," he said.

Wolf bristled, but Vash cooperated without blinking an eye. "I'm sorry about this," Vash said. "It was my fault."

"Vash—" Millie began to protest quietly from nearby, but Livio cut them both off.

"I don't want anything to do with you, Nicholas. Or your 'friend.'" He spat the last word out.

Wolf glared at Livio. "That friend is more of a saint than you could ever hope to be."

Livio slammed the door to his room, and they heard the deadbolt click into place. Millie said something about getting a bandage for Wolf's hand, and Wolf declined politely. Vash just stared at the closed door. When Wolf touched his arm, Vash pulled away as if he'd brushed up against poison ivy. He looked at Wolf, and he looked at Millie, and he could not reconcile their faces with the ones he'd seen moments ago. They had seemed like total strangers, nothing like the kind, caring friends he knew.

And they had done it for him.

They had wanted to hurt someone…because of Vash.

He didn't know how to process this, and he didn't have much time to think it over since Wolf urged him to get to class on time, but his mind had already reached its own conclusion.

_You're turning them into monsters, too._

* * *

Vash's things turned up at their door the next morning. Everything was there, unharmed—well, mostly everything. The photo was still missing, but Vash didn't mention that to Wolf.

"You still don't believe me, do you?" Wolf sighed as Vash leafed through the small pile of his belongings.

Vash couldn't bring his eyes to meet Wolf's. Even if Wolf_ had _been right, that wouldn't have made his actions right.

"Can't you talk to me?" Wolf said. "Or do I disgust you that much?" His tone was exasperated, indignant.

"I don't want to start an argument right now," Vash replied, closing the door and putting away his things.

"So you are angry."

"I'm not angry. I just don't understand."

"What's there to not understand?" Wolf spread his arms wide. "I was trying to stick up for you, Vash. It's more than you'd do for yourself."

"Not like that, I wouldn't," Vash muttered.

At this, Wolf let out a sharp breath. "Give it a rest, Spiky. I swear, sometimes you don't realize what a damn hypocrite you are."

Vash looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"You say you don't want to hurt people, but then you go and hurt yourself. You'll give anyone the benefit of the doubt, but when something bad happens, you're the first to take the blame. Even when it makes no sense at all. Even when _you know_ you're not the one at fault." Wolf stepped closer to him, forcing Vash to make eye contact. "I think you're taking the easy way out. You're using yourself as a punching bag 'cause you don't have the guts to hit the person who deserves it." He reached for Vash's wrist, but his touch was surprisingly gentle. With his own bruised and battered hands, Wolf formed the fingers of Vash's hand into a fist and held it up to his cheek. "You apologized for me, but I was the one you were angry with. If you really thought what I did was so wrong, then go ahead and hit me. Right here." Wolf laughed a little, bluntly. "It would make me happy, actually. Hell, if it meant you'd stop sacrificing yourself and start saving yourself…I'd trade my life for that."

Vash felt Wolf's grip loosen around his wrist, felt the muscle movements against his knuckles as Wolf clenched his jaw, waiting for Vash to strike. But Vash let his fist fall open, lowering his arm. "I think you're the one taking the easy way out, Wolf."

"What?" Wolf furrowed his eyebrows, sounding offended.

Vash felt a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You should see your face. Back when we first met, you caught me in the act. You told me I was pretending to look happy while something was eating me alive. But you've been acting, too." The smile faded as Vash gazed at Wolf's dark brown eyes. "I saw your eyes when you were fighting with him. You're forcing yourself to play the devil, but inside, your heart is breaking."

Wolf mirrored his gaze for a moment. Then he stepped back. He opened his mouth, but he couldn't seem to form a proper reply. At last, he mumbled, "I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree."

* * *

The call came around one A.M. They had slept in separate beds that night, and Vash only heard Wolf's sleepy groan as he answered the buzzing cell phone, then snatches of Wolf's side of the conversation: "Yes. Yes. What…? Okay. Okay. I understand. Thank you."

He heard the rustle of bedsheets as Wolf sat up. Then stillness for a long time.

Vash rolled over and opened his eyes. Wolf was sitting on the edge of the mattress, his head in his hands.

"Wolf?" Vash whispered, trying not to alarm him.

He saw Wolf lift his head. He heard Wolf exhale quietly, raking his hand through his tousled hair. He saw Wolf stand up and begin to dress without turning on the lights.

"What's going on?" Vash asked.

"My father's in the hospital," Wolf said. "I'm going to December."


	20. Home Sweet Home

_I've made a friend here. He's not as much of an asshole as I am, and that's something I have to admire. If humans could be gods, I'd say he's the closest thing to a god I've ever met._

_ But we're nothing like God. Sometimes, we're driven to become the devil himself._

* * *

Wolf pulled his collar up and stepped onto the bus. This was the last connection on his route to December, and he didn't want to chance a meeting with anyone from his old hometown. He walked to the end of the aisle, put his satchel on the luggage rack, and sat down in the last empty seat. The sky outside the window was gray and cloudy, but the sun must have come up by now. He'd left Augusta about five hours ago.

Vash had asked to go with him, but Wolf refused. It was a Saturday, and Wolf needed Vash to stand in for him at his mentor job. Vash had seemed eager to help, which put Wolf's mind at ease that Vash would be safe while he was gone. In truth, Wolf wanted Vash at his side, more than ever. But where he was going, he didn't want to be followed.

As soon as he got the call, Wolf knew what he had to do. For a moment, he'd tried to talk himself out of it, but it was as if the matter had already been decided. The past had finally caught up with him. It was time to face it.

He'd been sure to kiss Vash, but he didn't hold him, because then he might never let go. The R.A. girls were still asleep, so he asked Vash to say goodbye to them for him. It was a long drive, and he wasn't sure when he'd be back.

If he'd be back.

Wolf stifled the thought immediately. December was just a place. His father was just a person. Wolf had nothing to fear from him anymore.

Nothing at all.

He watched the dim landscape hurtling past him, forested hills giving way to farmland. He wondered if he'd recognize the town when the bus arrived. Wolf had spent so many years locked up in cages—the inescapable trap of his father's house, the confines of St. Michael's—that he could scarcely remember anything else.

Wolf reached into his pocket and unfolded the map he'd picked up at the last bus station. Running his finger along the names of the landmarks, he tried to piece together a picture of the town he'd left behind. As he did so, Wolf realized that December was much smaller than he remembered. Everything he'd known—the house, the church his father used to drag him to, the convenience store, the elementary school—was surprisingly close together. When Wolf was little, it had all seemed so expansive. He remembered thinking that he could run for miles and miles in any direction and never reach the end of it.

Looking down at this bird's eye view of the rural town, small enough to fit in his pocket, Wolf felt somehow cheated. It was like that story he'd read in Professor Midvalley's Intro to Philosophy class, about the prisoners and the shadows on the wall of the cave. If he could find his younger self now, that small Nicholas hiding in his father's house, Wolf would tell him to run. It would have been so easy to disappear. He could have done it so much sooner. Maybe then his father wouldn't have started drinking, wouldn't have hurt his mother and made her want to leave. Maybe they would have turned out to be better people, if Nicholas had the sense to just get the hell out of there.

Maybe he wouldn't be going back there today.

A sudden draft of cold air pricked at the back of Wolf's neck, and he lifted his head. Something had been bothering him since he'd left Chapel Hall. An uncomfortable sense that he was being watched. Being followed.

He looked around, but nothing seemed peculiar. There were only a few people on the bus, none of whom Wolf recognized. But as the bus began to slow down, and Wolf looked down at the map again, he felt a bad taste rising in the back of his throat.

The first stop in December was St. Michael's Academy.

* * *

"Fix your tie and stand up straight. You look like a slob. Do you know how much money I'm spending for you to get a decent education? _Look_ at me when I'm talking to you, Nicholas."

"Yes."

"You say yes _sir._"

"Yes…s—sir."

"And you'd better learn to string two words together before we meet the headmaster. I won't have those snotnosed prep school bastards thinking I raised some kind of idiot for a son. You hear me, boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"You stop acting like a lazyass backcountry chickenshit and start acting like a proper young man, or I'm gonna throw you in that car and haul your ass home. You want that?"

"N—n—"

"Quit whimpering or I'll give you something to cry about. You want me to take that money back? You want to go back home?"

"N—_no,_ s—s—sir…"

"Wipe your goddamn nose."

* * *

The bus door opened with a screech. A few people were disembarking at the stop. But before the door closed, a single figure boarded the bus.

A tall man in a dark coat with a white collar.

Wolf felt the chill in the air deepen, down to his very bones. He heard the door squeal shut, felt the jolt of the bus picking up speed. He watched the figure walk down the aisle toward him. The movements were a little too graceful for the bumpy road, almost as if the man were floating. And as the man sat down in the seat across the aisle from him, Wolf knew for a fact that no one else had seen this particular passenger getting onto the bus.

"Why are you following me?" Wolf asked Father Chapel. The noise of the engine was enough to mask his voice from the people sitting up front, but he knew the ghost could hear him.

Wolf glanced across the aisle. Father Chapel was staring at him with unblinking eyes. Strangely, his form was more…complete than usual. Less like the frightening post-mortem ghoul that Wolf had grown used to seeing, more like the somber authoritarian that Nicholas had known in life.

"I've come to hear your confession, Nicholas Wolfwood."

* * *

"What the hell is that smell? Have you been smoking?"

"It's none of your business."

"Don't you walk away from me, boy. What the fuck did you just say?"

"I said to g—go to hell."

"You're gonna pay for that, Nicholas. Is this what they've been teaching you at that goddamn school? 'Cause I know it ain't how I raised you to behave."

"You raised me with a bottle in your hand, you damn hypocrite."

"_Know your place!_ You will not disrespect me in my house, you son of a—"

"Get your hands off of me! Let _go!—oh shit…_"

"That…was a mistake, Nicholas…"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. D—don't…"

"So help me, I'll put the fear of god in you yet."

* * *

Wolf folded the map and stood up. The hospital was another two stops away, but there was somewhere he needed to go first. He took his satchel down from the luggage rack and walked unsteadily down the aisle.

Once he reached the front of the bus, he tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Can you let me off here?"

The driver squinted out at the empty road. "You sure, kid? Nothing here but pastureland."

"I'm sure. Thanks."

The bus slowed to a stop and the door squealed open again. Wolf paid his fare and stepped out into the midmorning countryside.

After the bus pulled away, Wolf stretched his arms and yawned. It was warmer here, but there were still patches of unmelted snow in the harrowed fields. He took a moment to get his bearings. They'd passed the church back at the last stop sign, so it had to be one of these service roads on the right.

Wolf reached into his satchel for one of the few things he'd packed: a half-empty pack of cigarettes.

_Sorry, Lina, _he thought as lit one up. _I haven't made good on my promise, have I? But I think this'll be the last one._

He let out a smooth breath of smoke and tilted his head to look behind him. The ghost was waiting patiently, watching.

"You want to hear my confession, huh?" Wolf turned back to the road and began to walk along the gravel shoulder. "Well, I think you're gonna be disappointed. It's not much of a story, but I guess it'll pass the time."

There wasn't another person in sight on the sprawling, weathered road. No cars either, for that matter. A single blackbird lighted on the telephone wire above, and Wolf took a moment to watch it preen its feathers. The bird looked like it had seen better days. Wolf smiled, just slightly.

"Look at that. I bet if you could ask that bird what it wanted, it would tell you the same thing I would have said back then. Enough food to eat and a safe place to sleep, with no predators around." The bird tested the air with its wings, then took off into the sky.

Wolf took another drag from the cigarette. "I used to wonder what it would be like to choose my own path, instead of having others decide it for me. But it wasn't like I could walk away from them. People depend on other people to survive. A broken home is better than no home at all. I thought that for a while, anyway."

He walked until he reached a line of trees that followed a dirt road off to the right. "This was how I used to walk home from school. Before I was sent to your fine institution, that is." He cast a look at the ghost, who betrayed no amusement. "I always liked this part, because when the trees had leaves in the summer, it was cool and shady and the shadows made patterns on the road."

No shadows on this cloudy day. Wolf gazed up at the skeletal tree branches. They looked as cold as he felt inside.

He stopped suddenly when he reached an old, decaying tree stump. A forgotten memory had boiled up so instantaneously that it made Wolf's stomach turn. "I fell asleep here once by accident and didn't wake up until it was dark. I was…I was scared to go back home because…"

Wolf swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped the cold sweat from underneath his bangs. "Because my father was an asshole, let's leave it at that. Anyway, he found me first. And he threw me against that fence. Now you tell me, 'Father.' What kind of a parent does that to a child? That wire had barbs on it…"

He shook away the memory and kept walking. "Maybe you didn't know it, but I'm sure it was no mystery around here. Brother Matthias kept it a secret because he knew I'd be in deeper shit if he pressed charges and couldn't prove anything. And I guess a kid getting beaten by his dad was nothing new to the rest of you. Hell, you probably would have been on his side. I wasn't exactly a straight-A student, was I?"

The road dipped down into a shallow creek bed, then up a hill with trees on both sides. Wolf's cigarette had burned down to a stub. He dropped it and stamped it out, shoving his hands in his pockets. "We're almost there."

Over the crest of the hill, the road veered one direction and Wolf veered the other. He cut through the woods until they reached a clearing, and he stopped to catch his breath.

There it was. His old backyard. Dead clumps of weeds and sapling trees now obscured the lawn. But the house was still there. Like everything else, it was smaller than he remembered. The back porch had been repaired with a new screen door, but the roof was in bad shape and the gutters needed cleaning. Wolf stepped up to the porch and tried the door. Unlocked, just as he expected. His father never remembered to lock the back door.

"Another ghost lives here," Wolf said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "Don't go upstairs."

For the first time since the bus ride, Father Chapel spoke. "You seem like you don't want to go inside at all."

Wolf said nothing. He turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The house smelled oddly antiseptic. Wolf flipped a light switch to see the kitchen, clean and spotless. No liquor bottles, no empty glasses. In the shadowy living room, Wolf could make out a bed with metal risers, a table stacked with plastic medicine containers. He must have been in hospice care for a while. Wolf wondered how long it had taken his father to find out where he was living.

"You haven't been telling the whole story," Father Chapel said.

Wolf placed his hand on the back of the couch, the same worn gingham fabric from his childhood. "This was where…this was where he sat me down that day he found me outside. After the drink had worn off…he was crying. I'd never seen him weep before. He bandaged me where the wire had caught me and put a blanket around me and put socks on my feet, even though it was warm out. He said he was so sorry. He said he'd never drink again." Wolf laughed dryly. "You know what the worst part is? I was so shocked, I actually believed him." He pushed his sleeve over his face. "What a goddamn joke."

He walked out of the living room and into the hallway. Opened the door to the closet and clicked on the light. Would it still be here?

Wolf wasn't tall enough to see above the topmost shelf, so he reached up and fished around until his hand closed around the corner of the shoebox.

The revolver was inside, cleaned and packed neatly away. The box of bullets was in there, too.

Wolf sat down on the floor and took the revolver out of the box.

"This was the gun my father would hold to my head while I screamed and cried. He'd hold it there and threaten to shoot me if I didn't stop crying. He used it on my mother, too, when she was still around." Wolf opened the box of bullets. "I've seen kids come into the church in Augusta who've been taught not to cry. Every time I let them go home, I feel like I've made the worst possible choice. But I'm still so powerless. I'm just as scared as they are."

He pushed the latch to release the cylinder and loaded the first bullet into the chamber, hands trembling. "If I fail to save them, doesn't that make me the same kind of monster that my father was? That's what I ask myself when I look into their eyes. And I know the answer, but I don't want to admit it."

He loaded the second bullet, then the third. "There's someone I love who thinks that everyone deserves another chance. If he were here, he'd be telling me to put this gun away. But we don't see eye to eye on everything. I've come to accept that."

He stopped at five bullets, leaving one chamber empty. Lining up the empty chamber with the barrel, he clicked the cylinder back in place and tested it to be sure it was locked. Then he stood up and put the box away where he'd found it.

At the end of the hallway, Wolf opened the last door. He heard the floorboards creak under his weight as he stepped into the old bedroom. He didn't bother to turn on the light.

"This was where I was going to kill him, the day I graduated from St. Michael's. I was standing right here. I had the gun in my hands, like this. He was cornered. Begging for his life. I should have told him to stop crying, like he'd done to me. I should have told him what a gutless coward he was. I should have shot him…but I was scared. And I think there was a part of me that still believed his lies, about wishing things were different…so I ran. I dropped the gun somewhere out in the yard and I just ran and ran and I never looked back."

Wolf held the revolver at his side, staring into the darkness. "I was the cowardly one. It took me two years to figure out that I'd let a demon go free. It took meeting those children to make me realize what a monster my father was. I saw my eyes in their eyes. And I couldn't understand the kind of evil that would dare to prey on someone so small and defenseless. How could he not have seen that? You're an adult, you're supposed to protect them…"

His voice wavered, and he sighed. "This is my last chance to do what I should have done before. So now you know my sin, Father Chapel. You know what I am. What I must become."

The ghost was silent. Wolf tucked the revolver under his waistband and pulled his sweater down over it. "No absolution, then? I can't say I blame you."

When Chapel spoke, his voice had taken on a curious note. "Nicholas the Punisher. I must say, it has a ring to it."

* * *

It was late afternoon when Wolf reached the hospital, and the sky was beginning to darken. He had been to this place enough times in his youth to know that it was neither the most state-of-the-art, nor the most tightly secured facility. The fact that he could walk right through the door without incident made Wolf more uneasy than the purpose of his visit. Standing in the lobby, he froze up for a moment.

"Having second thoughts?" Father Chapel asked.

Wolf didn't answer out loud. In his mind, he repeated the mantra that had brought him here. _This is what must be done. This is the only way to make things right._

_ The only way you can be forgiven._

"Do not hesitate to pass judgment, Nicholas. _Then the just shall rejoice to see the vengeance, and bathe their feet in the blood of the wicked. _Or have you forgotten my teachings?"

Wolf began to walk toward the reception desk.

"Hesitation is your worst enemy. Hesitation leads to failure."

"Visiting?" the receptionist asked.

"Yes. I'm here to see my father."

* * *

"Checking out, Mr. Wolfwood?"

"Yes, thank you."

"My, that's a nasty bruise. A broken nose again? And what did we get ourselves into this time, Nicholas Junior?"

"A…f—fight."

"I'm afraid he hasn't been getting along with his classmates this year. But he's learned his lesson now. Haven't you, Nicholas?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, a scrape or two is nothing to be worried about. Boys will be boys, won't they, Mr. Wolfwood?"

"They certainly will."

* * *

Wolf pushed the button for the second floor and waited for the elevator door to close.

A quiet voice in the back of his mind said, _It's not too late to turn back._

He had worked so hard to get to where he was now. Safe in Augusta, halfway to a college degree, mentoring kids and learning how to teach. He had food to eat and a place to sleep. He had friends. A boyfriend. A home. Everything he wanted, and so much more than he deserved.

But that was the problem.

Wolf couldn't go on living like a king, knowing in his heart that he'd run away again. This was his fate. This was his responsibility.

Deep inside, he'd always known. Father Chapel must have known, too. _Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life remaining in him._ Wolf had wished death on another person, and so condemned himself. Murderers could only be murderers, no matter how much he'd tried to change.

His father used to call him a devil, a bastard, an iniquity. Maybe there was something to that, after all.

The door slid open and Wolf stepped out.

* * *

It wasn't a long wait. Unsurprisingly, the man had no other visitors.

"They've discussed his condition with you?"

"Yes."

"He's been on the waiting list for a transplant, but his prognosis was limited from the start. Still, it's helpful to be optimistic. Sometimes that can mean the difference between a patient's survival or defeat."

"I understand."

"I'm sorry for breaking the news at such late notice. He's been asking for you since he was admitted to intensive care. It's been difficult to locate you."

"We…weren't on the best of terms."

"This sort of thing isn't uncommon. Thank you for coming. I'm sure it will mean a lot to him."

"I hope so."

They stopped at a numbered door. "I'm afraid we can't leave you alone with him for more than half an hour. I know you've come a long way…"

"I won't be long. Thank you."

* * *

Wolf stood in the room where his father was dying.

He was hooked up to a ventilator and a number of monitors, which sounded their monotone chorus with every breath. Underneath the mask and tubes, his eyes were closed. His face looked pale and faded in the faint light from the window, as if Wolf were looking at an old photograph of his father rather than a living person.

Wolf felt a chill at his shoulder.

"_Thus I will punish the world for its evil, and the wicked for their guilt._"

There wasn't much time. He had to make it quick.

Wolf drew the revolver and stepped closer, until he could see the lines on his father's face. Standing above the gaunt, weakened shadow of the man who used to hold so much power over him, Wolf felt strangely conflicted. Could he be mistaken? Was this the same person that Nicholas had feared, all those years of his life?

"You cannot show mercy to a creature incapable of mercy," the ghost whispered.

The monitors would alert the hospital staff if his father were to experience a shock. Wolf couldn't risk waiting for him to wake up. He had to do it now.

He steadied the gun with both hands. Pulled the hammer back to advance the first round.

Then his father opened his eyes.

_Now,_ Wolf's mind screamed. _Now,_ the ghost urged. But nothing was happening. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

Wolf hated how much of himself he could see in his father's face. The same jaw, the same nose, the same dark brown eyes. The same name. Wolf willed himself to pull the trigger, but the gun only shook in his hands. He was too scared. He was too late.

He kept expecting to hear an alarm, to hear the door burst open and the doctors rush in, but the steady rhythm of the life-supporting machines had not skipped a beat. And Wolf noticed suddenly that his father was smiling.

"At last. Nicholas. You've finally come."

* * *

His voice was frail and faltering, but his words were clear. "You've come home. I knew you would…"

Wolf stared down the sights of the gun. He couldn't seem to line them up properly.

His father's smile deepened. "You'll never get a clear shot like that, son. You're stiff as a board." With one trembling hand, he reached up and touched Wolf's wrist. "You have to breathe slower. Relax your shoulders."

The touch of his hand was paper-light, but it made Wolf flinch. "I—I'm not here for conver…conversation."

"I know. You're here to finish what you started." He lowered his hand, exhausted. "You've grown up since I last saw you. You must be stronger now." The old man had to catch his breath between every few words. "But you still haven't learned how to fire a gun."

Wolf clenched his teeth. This was all wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

"Set your feet apart. Look right between my eyes."

"Sh—shut up."

His father either coughed or laughed, Wolf couldn't tell which. "You have every right to hate me. Do you think I didn't know…what a bad father I was? It's funny, really. I used to despise my old man, but I grew up to be just like him…I could never put those days behind me. And here you came. To take your revenge, just like I did…"

_You're the one taking the easy way out, Wolf._

"I s—said to shut up." Wolf tightened his grip.

_You've been acting, too._

"Go ahead, boy. Let me atone for my sins. You're the only one who can absolve me…"

"I didn't…come here…to forgive you."

"Then take my life as payment."

Wolf felt tears burning in his eyes, muddling his focus. He pressed his finger tighter against the trigger.

_You must not hesitate. You cannot show mercy._

He saw the face of Father Chapel, staring down from the pulpit.

_ Stop crying, you sack of shit._

The face of his father in a drunken rage, pushing the muzzle against his head.

_ Murderers can only be murderers…_

His own face, so much like the one before him. And then…

Shepherd. Jasmine. Amelia. Livio. Meryl. Millie.

Vash.

_ You're forcing yourself to play the devil, but inside, your heart is breaking._

His breath came in a shuddering gasp, and Wolf dropped his arms to his sides. He bowed his head close to his chest, shaking so violently he thought his knees would give out. The tears ran down his face and would not stop.

_I'm not strong._

"What is this?" the ghost demanded. "Do you dare to turn your back on your moral duty?"

_I can't save them. I can't do anything._

"Nicholas…" There was a plea in his father's voice that Wolf recognized from years ago. Only this time, he was begging Wolf to end his life, rather than spare it.

"No." Wolf dragged his sleeve over his face, speaking through his tears. "I don't answer to that name anymore. I'm not who you want me to be."

He placed the revolver on the bed, and took a step back.

"I'm nothing like you."

For a long moment, his father watched him silently. When he spoke, it was barely audible. "You're right. I see that, now."

Wolf turned toward the door. He was still shaking, a little, though he didn't know why. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get back home…

He heard everything before he felt it. The voice of Father Chapel, somehow melded with his father's voice, screaming _Blasphemy!_—the sound of glass breaking?—the sound of the revolver firing. And another voice, a different voice, there was someone else shouting now, someone else in the room…

But Wolf didn't have a chance to find out who it was, because he was bleeding suddenly very badly, and he was falling, and he couldn't see.

The sounds of a scuffle registered faintly in his ears before they, too, vanished. And all Wolf could think was, _I didn't want to die like this._


	21. Hide and Seek

_Nigh used to play a trick on me when we were little. He'd count to ten like we were playing hide and seek, and I'd run and hide. Then the whole house would go silent. I'd wait and wait, but Nigh would never find me. I'd start to think that no one would ever find me, until I got so scared that I ran through the house, calling his name. I'd turn a corner and find him in the living room, reading, or in the kitchen, doing crosswords in the paper. When I asked him why he'd given up on finding me, he'd act like we hadn't been playing a game at all._

_ I fell for it every time._

_ Once, when we were playing tag in the house, Nigh swerved into my path and tripped over me, landing on his knees. He started screaming and crying. "I can't believe you tripped me! My leg! I think it's broken!" He sounded like he was in so much pain that I started crying, too. Then he burst out laughing._

_ "God, Vash, you're way too easy to fool," he said when he settled down, wiping his eyes. "You should have seen the look on your face!"_

_ I was an easy target, I guess. But there was one thing I noticed about Nigh: he could never keep a straight face for very long. There must have been something about letting me in on the joke that was too satisfying to resist._

_ I wonder when he'll let me in on this one._

* * *

When morning came, it was cloudy and cold. Vash pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept since Wolf left.

Meryl was at the R.A. desk with a mug of tea. "You're up early," she remarked. "Do you have Saturday classes—_Vash?_" She stood up quickly. "What happened?"

Vash cringed. He'd tried to cover the bruise on his face with a bandage, but Meryl had a sharp eye. "Ask Millie," he said, unwilling to recall the events of the day before. "I have to cover for Wolf at his mentor job. He went to see his father in the hospital."

"Oh." Meryl looked doubly concerned now. "Is it serious?"

"I don't know. He seemed upset, but he wouldn't talk about it."

They were both silent for a moment. Vash felt a knot in his throat growing tighter. He paused at the door before opening it. "Meryl, do you think people can do bad things for good reasons?"

Her reply was hesitant and strained. "What?"

Vash turned his head and smiled weakly. "Nothing. Call me if you hear from Wolf, okay? I'll be at the church if you need me."

* * *

Vash had never been to a church until he met Wolf. He didn't know what people went searching for in temples and mosques and cathedrals. Sure, he'd read about religion and theology, but he could never understand why these earthly structures had been built for something decidedly unearthly.

Wolf hardly ever talked about God. There was the cross on the wall, and the old black book, and the Catholic school he'd mentioned once or twice. But there was no trace of joy in Wolf's eyes when he talked about those things. The only thing that really seemed to make him happy was the time he spent in this place, with these children.

The children who, at this very moment, were gathered around the playground gate, staring down at Vash. For some reason he was lying on the ground, and everything hurt.

"Did you see? He just ran right into the fence."

"That's Mr. Wolf's bike, isn't it?"

"He never lets anyone touch his bike."

"Are you awake, Mr. Vash?"

_Wolf's bike…_that was right. He thought he could get away with a test drive, since Wolf was out of town. And actually, it had been going pretty well. He'd even gotten the engine to start on the first try. But he must have spaced out when he got to the church, because here he was in a tangled heap on the lawn, with the bike in a tangled heap beside him.

Vash rubbed his head and sat up slowly. One of the bike's wheels was bent out of shape, and the engine had died, a faint cloud of exhaust lingering in the air.

"Mr. Wolf is gonna kill me," Vash moaned.

"Where is he?" one of the kids asked.

"He had to go on a trip," Vash said, still groggy. "I'll be spending the day with you."

"Can we play tag again?"

"Maybe once I find out if my legs work or not…"

As Vash gripped the railing of the fence and stood up, thunder rumbled in the sky.

"Guess we'll have to play inside today," he said.

A few of the kids groaned.

"Come on," Vash replied, pushing Wolf's bike under the covered entryway while the first raindrops began to fall. "There's plenty of stuff to do indoors."

He opened the front door and let the children file in before him. No one had turned on the lights inside the church, and the sanctuary was eerily quiet. The parking lot had seemed strangely empty, too.

"Where are the other chaperones today?" Vash asked one of the girls.

"They had to go home," she answered.

"What? What about—"

"Hey!" one of the boys exclaimed. "I know! We should play hide and seek in the dark!"

"Yeah," another chimed in. "Mr. Wolf never lets us play it in the dark."

"Please, Mr. Vash, can we?"

Vash paused uncertainly. He knew why Wolf must have avoided that particular game, but that wasn't what was bothering him. Something wasn't right. Why had the chaperones left the kids here, alone?

"Wait a minute. I think we—"

"You can be _it_ first, Mr. Vash. You have to count to ten."

A flash of lightning lit up the stained glass windows, and Vash saw the figures of the children scattering through the empty sanctuary. He took a few faltering steps, but the darkness outside was growing, casting the church in deep shadows. "Wait!" he shouted. "Come back!"

The kids had disappeared in every direction. Vash could hear the echoes of their stifled laughter, but he couldn't tell where they were coming from. He retraced his steps to the door and felt around for a light switch, calling out to the children. Then a crack of thunder shook the entire building. Vash flipped the switch, but the lights only sparked once, the fuse blown.

"Hey!" Vash yelled. "Everyone come back! The power's out! It isn't safe—"

"You have to count to ten!" a small voice cried. "Then you come and find us."

"I'm not playing!" Vash's own voice had reached a frantic pitch. "Where are you hiding? Come out!" He searched for his phone, but his pockets were empty. _Damn it. _Had he forgotten it? Had he dropped it when he crashed the bike?

The soft drone of rainfall crescendoed to a roar. Vash wandered blindly between the rows of pews, his arm outstretched. "Please come out! It isn't funny…"

A singsong chant reverberated somewhere above him. "That's not how you play the ga-ame…"

Vash squinted into the shadows desperately. His heart was beating too fast, his breathing too shallow. He had to calm down and think. Nothing bad had happened. It was just a power outage. It was just a storm.

He needed to find them and bring them back. And the best way to do that, it seemed, was to play along.

"One…" Vash began counting, wiping the sweat from underneath his bangs. "Two…three…" He thought he heard whispers coming from the back of the sanctuary, and he walked in the direction of the pulpit.

"Four…five…" Now the whispers were behind him. "Six…seven…" To his right. To his left. He spun in a helpless circle, losing his bearings. "Eight…" His voice was barely a whimper, a faint plea swallowed up in the sounds of the storm. "Nine…ten."

Out of the dark, the shape of another person emerged. Vash went rigid. The lightning flashed again, the pulpit illuminated, and Vash saw the face before him, the features he recognized as his own. Nigh's smile lit by the electric glow. And like the thunder that followed the lightning, the voice of his counterpart was not far behind.

_Ready or not, here I come._

* * *

"Don't hurt them," Vash said.

He could barely see his brother's face in the shadows. Legato was nowhere to be seen, but his voice was clear in Vash's head.

_I told you this day would come. Well, Vash? Did you remember their faces? The church boy knew them well. Too bad he isn't here to help you._

Vash reached out and gripped Nigh's shoulder. "Tell him not to hurt them. Please. The children have nothing to do with me."

Laughter surrounded him. _They have everything to do with you. Their lives may very well depend upon you._

"Stop it!" Vash yelled. "I'm right here! I'll do whatever you want! Can't you speak for yourself anymore, Nigh? Or do you let that blue-haired creep do all your talking for you?"

A sharp shove sent Vash staggering backward. As Nigh stepped into a dim square of rain-glazed window light, Vash could see a pained scowl on his face.

"It's Knives now…you fool."

His voice was ragged and faint. And even in this weak, distorted light, it was obvious why he could hardly speak. The lines in his face had deepened since Vash saw him last. He was aging too rapidly. One small show of force seemed to have sapped a great deal of his energy. He stood there trying to catch his breath, considering his twin brother with tired eyes. Vash had changed, too. The differences between them, once so inconsequential, had taken on physical attributes and now stood out in sharp contrast to one another. There was no longer any question of who was who.

"Your arm…" For a moment, Knives' face registered shock. Then his eyes narrowed bitterly. "You never could accept it, could you? Did you think you could blot out your history just like you blotted out your memory? Nothing's that simple, Vash. Not even you."

Vash closed his hand around his empty sleeve. "I want to remember. I'm not running away anymore. It just…doesn't make sense." He shook his head slowly. "I saw myself hurting people…taking their lives. I can remember the way it felt, seeing the—the horror on their faces. And being absolutely powerless to stop it." He looked back up at Knives. "That's what I don't understand. I thought if I remembered the things I did, I'd remember the _reason_ that I did them. But there was no reason. I never wanted to hurt anyone. It was as if someone—something—was moving my arm…pulling the trigger…striking the match."

He stared into his brother's eyes. "It's you, isn't it, Knives? You're the one behind all this. The one who's pulling the strings."

Knives tilted his head, almost amused. "Look at me, Vash. I'm practically disintegrating. Do you honestly think I have that kind of power?"

Vash cast his eyes around the dark sanctuary. "You've made some new friends."

"Yes," Knives answered. "And some not so new. I've been waiting for you to meet them. You wouldn't come to me on your own, so I've prepared a little family reunion of sorts." He held out his hand. "What do you say, brother? Care to join me?"

Vash hesitated, unresponsive.

"Don't worry," Knives added. "Your precious children are safe, as long as you remain in my sight. I'd hate to think what might happen if you try to run."

"So I have no choice," Vash muttered. He took Knives' hand, and a small shock ran through him, like static electricity. Or had he just imagined it?

They started down the aisle of the sanctuary, hand in hand, silent. Between the rows of pews, Vash felt as if he were being led down a long, narrow corridor. A memory of clean white walls flashed before his eyes, and he gasped.

Knives glanced back at him. "Doesn't this seem awfully familiar, Vash? Reminds me of a dream I had once. A dream I could never forget. You know, I've been thinking about that place ever since you burned it to the ground. Something always bothered me about what happened there. Why do you think they made two of us? Why twins?"

"Rem said it was a miracle."

Knives laughed spitefully. "But you're not a child anymore. You know as well as I do that they made a choice—Rem and Conrad and our so-called parents. Every atom of our DNA was decided under a microscope. They needed a new test subject to replace the first. And so they did what any good scientists would do. They conducted an experiment."

The air in the sanctuary felt thick. The dull roar of rain thrummed against the walls like the hum of a machine. Vash caught the smell of formaldehyde, sharp as needles.

Knives continued. "A hypothesis can be tested in a number of ways. But to achieve the most accurate results, you need at least two subjects. A control, and a variable." He paused to examine Vash's face. "The illnesses. The injuries. Always you and never me. Haven't you thought about it before?"

Vash lowered his eyes. "Yes," he said, very softly.

He felt the electricity again, trickling down his spine.

"I wanted to save you," Knives said. "But I was useless alone. I was the control. They'd done things to your brain I couldn't begin to understand. And I couldn't tap into your mind, but I knew there was someone who could. She'd done it once before, to both of us, in that dream. And she did it again, with that gun in your hands. She saved both our lives."

"That's not…possible."

"You said it yourself. _It was as if someone else pulled the trigger._ And how else would you explain that dream? Of course, you were the only one who could physically channel her. Whatever dark energy they'd stirred up in your brain linked your consciousness to hers. To put it another way, it opened up a path. A direct wavelength from one plane of existence to another. She wasn't strong enough yet to speak, but what little strength she had was enough to manipulate your weakened body like a puppet. At least one arm, anyway."

Vash felt a tightness in his chest. Something was pulling him close, like a magnet to its polar opposite. The flickering electrostatic charge now built into a steady pulse, sending small shockwaves from his feet to the ends of his hair. He was certain he saw sparks dancing along the floor of the sanctuary.

"I went searching for her," Knives said. "I found someone who could contact her for me. Another conduit, like you, but with a different talent. A stuttering schoolboy who saw things in the dark."

"Wolf…"

"He went by another name back then. Didn't he tell you?"

Vash gritted his teeth, unable to reply. His head was spinning.

"No, I don't suppose he would have trusted you with it. Nor with his other secrets. What a dark mind that child possessed. When I told him what he could do with his power—the pain and sickness and tragedy he could cause—why, he practically jumped at the opportunity to help me. He must have wanted to hurt someone very badly."

This was all wrong. Vash wanted to believe that Knives was lying, wanted to remember something about Wolf that would refute his claims, but all he could see was the absolute hatred on Wolf's face as he'd beaten another person past the point of recognition.

"He told me what he saw," Knives went on. "The place where they'd kept her. At a research facility in July."

A strange light was coming from behind the pulpit.

"When I got there, I found someone else who should have been a ghost. Conrad had survived all those years, and he'd brought her with him—or what was left of her. He seemed…surprised to see me. Repentant, I guess you could say. After all, he'd been trying to absolve himself since the day she died. Trying in vain to build another one like _her._ Countless failed prototypes strung up like slaughter in his freezers. And some…some still alive. Children with strange abilities. With incredible minds and slight physical defects. One of them had blue hair and a troublesome tendency to move things about without touching them. Conrad kept him behind glass. He wanted perfection. He was obsessed with it, the bastard. Did Luida show you _that?_ Did she tell you what went on behind those walls?"

Vash wanted to turn and run. But he couldn't even shield his face from the otherworldly light that leapt and arced from the pulpit as if God itself had descended from the storm.

Knives had to speak louder to drown out the chorus of rain and electrical currents permeating the atmosphere. "I needed to get her body out of there, but I couldn't do it alone. And I couldn't bring myself to kill him. If anyone in the world knew how to save you, I thought it would have been Conrad. So I waited until you showed up in July. Until Luida sent you right into his hands. And I asked him to make you better. To fix what he'd broken."

The words came back to Vash like a jigsaw piece fitting into place. _There's nothing I can do for him._

"You know what happened next. Her consciousness must have been following you around since the day I'd left you. A guardian angel, you could say. And she did what I couldn't bring myself to do. There weren't many survivors from that fire, but she made sure the rest of his creations escaped. The blue-haired boy had grown up and wouldn't leave my side. I thought it might be useful to keep him around, and I was right. He's the one who helped me find you again. And he's the one who saved her remains."

Vash could feel the currents underneath his skin, raising every hair on his body. The noise was almost deafening. Knives shouted to him as they took the last steps up to the pulpit.

"Conrad knew nothing of what we could do. What he'd created. We are gods and she is our savior. And we can resurrect her."

The source of the light rose up before them, taking shape. If lightning had a voice, it sang.

"_She lives, Vash. Can you see her?_"

A tear ran down Vash's face.

"Tesla."

* * *

But it wasn't their sister.

Not entirely.

He felt her presence as surely as the electricity sparking from the orb of light. He could see the faint figure of the girl who'd led them through her past, shimmering in and out of focus like a mirage. But her form was incomplete. The fractured cryogenic aftermath of her body hung suspended in the light, as if her shattered pieces were trying desperately to forge themselves together.

"We can bring her back," Knives said. "You've already given her so much life. The longer her spirit inhabits a host, the stronger her form becomes. And with every human life she's taken, she's only grown more powerful."

"No…" Vash resisted the magnetic force of the light with everything he had. He didn't want to get any closer. "This…this is wrong. What have you…what have you _done_…"

"I don't mourn the loss of human life. We are nothing like them. And their sins demand a sacrifice."

"Please." Vash struggled to raise his arm, tears hot in his eyes. "I don't want to see her like this…"

"Think of the people who've hurt us, Vash. The people who killed our sister. The people who deliberately tampered with your brain and poisoned your body. You can't tell me that you've never wanted to make them suffer for what they did. It's our divine right. It's justice."

"It's _wrong._"

A searing phantom pain coursed through his left arm, and Vash doubled over with a cry of agony.

"You can feel it, can't you?" Knives said. "The power that only a god could wield. You've seen what it can do. You know it's useless to fight it." He stepped closer to his brother. "If you will not take a human life, then I beg of you to take mine. I've served no purpose on this earth since I was born. Tesla chose you to be her vessel. I'll offer my life to her. I know she will use it well."

Vash clamped his hand over what was left of his arm. His skin felt like it was on fire, his tears turning to vapor before he could shed them. With a scream that left his insides hollow, Vash tore himself from the pulsing light, out of Tesla's magnetic grip. He fell to his knees on the cold floor, gasping for breath.

"_No_," Vash said at last, his entire body trembling from the exertion. "_I will not…hurt anyone…ever again._"

Tesla's light sparked and faltered. Severed from her influence, Vash felt weak and exhausted. Knives looked down at him with something like pity, something like regret.

"I was afraid it would come to this," Knives said. His lip curled upward. "So I devised one last game for us. Here are the rules: you find every last human child that Legato has hidden in this building, or I sacrifice them all to her. You were always so good at hide and seek. I'll give you ten minutes."

Vash's heart plummeted. His face went cold. _No no no no—_

"Clock's ticking, Vash."

Somehow, he got to his feet. Stumbled away from the piercing light. One foot in front of the other, faster and faster until he was running. Where? He tripped over the edge of a pew, staggering to right himself, arm outstretched. _Damn it, Nigh. _He had to win this time. He had no choice.

"Can anyone hear me?" Vash shouted, kneeling down to look under the pews. Spots danced before his eyes, the afterglow too bright to see into the shadows. "Jasmine? Shepherd?"

No answers. _Shit._ He couldn't remember all of their names. He couldn't even remember how many of them there were. Wolf would have known. Wolf could have saved them…

A tiny wail rang out from one end of the sanctuary. Vash sprinted after the sound, crashing through the pews. Up above the pillars, on a lofted balcony, a small boy was standing on the railing, crying.

"Don't!" Vash yelled. "Don't jump down! I'll come and get you!"

But the boy's feet were slipping, and Vash had to act. He leapt up onto the pew beneath the balcony, bracing himself as the boy shrieked and fell. Vash caught him with his good arm, breaking the child's fall with his body, but the weight unbalanced him and sent them both tumbling to the floor. Vash hugged the boy to his chest, the air knocked out of his lungs.

"Are you okay?" Vash wheezed. "Are you hurt?"

The boy clung to his shirt, obviously terrified, but he shook his head in reply.

"Stay with me," Vash said. "It's going to be all right—"

Then Vash heard the sound of footsteps racing down the aisle, and he spun around to see a girl running straight toward the light.

"Wait! _Stop!_" Vash sprinted after her, screaming. "It's dangerous! Don't—!"

He reached her just in time, scooping her up from the steps to the pulpit. Knives watched them with a look of indifference.

"This isn't fair!" Vash cried. "Please…"

_You're wasting time,_ Legato reminded him. Somewhere within the building, another small voice was calling out for help. "Climb on my back," Vash urged the girl quickly. "Don't let go." He lifted the boy up with his arm and ran in the direction of the sound. Out of the sanctuary, down a hallway lit blood red by a dim emergency light. He shifted the boy's weight against the crook of his arm, trying door after locked door, until one of them finally opened to a stairwell.

_Might as well give up now,_ Legato taunted him as he raced up the stairs. _Before you get too attached._

Vash pushed through the door at the top of the stairwell, faced with another blood-colored corridor. "Help!" the tiny voice came muffled from the end of the hall.

_She's going to need a host to kill them for her. I think you know very well what that means._

"I'm coming!" Vash shouted. "Keep talking so I can find you!"

"It's dark…I'm scared…"

_What will your beloved churchman think when he sees what you've done?_

Vash forced himself to ignore Legato's words, following the child's voice to a doorway and trying the handle. It was unlocked, but something was braced against the door. He lowered the children he was carrying to the floor and told them to stand back. "Hey, can you hear me in there? I need you to get back as far as you can and cover your head. I'm gonna try to get this door open."

"Okay…"

_He left them in your care._

"One…two…three!" Vash hurled his weight at the door, shoulder first. It budged a little, but not enough.

_He trusted you._

"One more time, okay? I'm gonna get you out." Vash took a deep breath, got a running start and threw himself at the door, forcing it open the rest of the way. From out of the darkness, two small hands reached for his, and the frightened face of a little girl emerged.

"You did great," Vash told her with a shaky smile. "Hey, you're the one who always catches me in tag, right? Think you can keep up with me again?"

The girl gave him a brave smile in return, and nodded. Vash picked up the other two children and started back down the hall, knocking on doors and calling out as he went. But he was getting more and more uneasy. Time was running out.

They reached an open door that led to the balcony, and Vash heard a child's laughter somewhere ahead. He chased after them, but the sound only seemed to get further away. "Turn around! Come back!"

Suddenly the children he'd been carrying wrestled free from him and ran in the opposite direction. "_Wait!_ _What are you doing?_" Vash lunged after them, then spun around again as several young voices cried out from the far reaches of the balcony. His breathing grew strained and the tears returned to his eyes as he looked back and forth hopelessly, unable to move one way or the other. A heavy weight descended on him as the realization set in. The impossibility of it all. Knives was toying with him again. Making a joke of his worst fears. This wasn't a game he could win…

Then he saw something. The slightest motion in the dark. Across the open sanctuary, on the opposite balcony, someone was standing there, watching him.

_Don't worry._ The voice he heard in his head belonged to a child, but it wasn't a voice that Vash recognized. He squinted into the shadows, focusing his eyes on the faraway figure. A boy, a little older than the others, with messy hair and a solemn face.

Shepherd.

He raised a finger to his lips, signaling Vash to keep quiet. _Don't worry,_ he repeated. _I'm going to get them out._

Vash didn't dare to speak, didn't dare to think, for fear of Legato hearing. But when Legato's laughter pealed across the sanctuary, he didn't seem aware of Shepherd's voice at all.

_Have you given up, then?_ Legato asked. _I'm surprised at you, Vash. Just when it was getting fun to watch._

Vash looked from one end of the balcony to the other. If Shepherd had a plan, then Vash needed to trust him. He needed to keep Legato distracted. Keep all eyes on him.

"Is this what Tesla freed you to do, Legato?" Vash asked, his voice echoing in the sanctuary below. "To harm innocent kids? To torture them? You were just an innocent kid yourself, once. And he tortured you, didn't he? Dr. Conrad."

_Fascinating observation,_ Legato sneered._ What goes around, comes around._

"Sometimes people do bad things because they think they have good reasons." Vash walked slowly toward the end of the balcony. "They think they have no other choice."

_I fail to see your point. And you're wasting precious time._

Vash cast a quick glance over at Shepherd, who was moving in step with him, toward the place where the balcony crossed over the sanctuary. "I know when I've been cornered," Vash continued. "I know my brother. Knives likes to mess with my head, just like the rest of them. He gets me thinking I'm on the right track, and then he pulls the rug out from under my feet. He likes to use people for his own gain. Did you know that about him?"

_Speak ill of Master Knives, and I'll cut your heart out._

"But he's not the one you should be indebted to. He didn't do anything to save you from Conrad. It was Tesla who set you free."

Vash came to the end of the balcony, where a stepped choir loft rose up to meet the stained glass windows of the church. Rain roared against the glass panes, and Vash raised his voice to match it.

"Can't you see what's happening? Knives wants to use Tesla just like Dr. Conrad used her for his experiments. Just like he's using you now. I don't think that's what Tesla would have wanted. She only ever tried to save us."

The light behind the pulpit intensified, arms of electricity grasping for a hold in their material surroundings. Vash shielded his eyes, looking around him for a sign of Shepherd. The boy was keeping low, making his way to highest level of the loft. Vash stepped cautiously up to meet him.

Below, a shrieking sound came from Tesla's form. It was strangely harmonious, like the voices of some celestial chorus. Her light seemed to be reaching for Vash, branching up the pillars and along the railing of the balcony, taking flight in every conducting surface until it reached the loft.

"What's happening?" Knives shouted from the pulpit. "What have you done?"

Vash only had a moment to look his brother in the eye. "I've won," he said.

Then the glass shattered, the light exploding into millions of sparks around them. Vash reached out to guard Shepherd's body from the shower of electricity. The sound of breaking glass was immediately overpowered by the howling wind and rain sweeping through the open windows.

_Are you ready?_ Vash asked Shepherd. _Are they safe?_

The boy nodded, and Vash took his hand and stepped up to the storm raging outside. No time to look behind him at whatever was going on in the sanctuary now. He knelt on the precipice with the rain striking his face, drawing Shepherd close to him. There was an awning over the church lawn down below. It had to work.

"Hold onto me," Vash said, and Shepherd curled his arms tight around Vash's neck. As Vash turned his back to the rain and lowered himself out the window, he caught a glimpse of a fire within the sanctuary.

One arm wasn't strong enough to hold them both for long. His hand slipped from the windowsill and he pushed off from the wall with both feet, wrapping his arm around Shepherd and tucking the boy's head under his chin. The wind screeched in their ears and they struck the awning, ripping through the canvas. Vash's feet hit the lawn at an odd angle, and he crumpled sideways, veering at the last moment to block Shepherd from hitting the ground first. For a minute all he could do was lie there in the pounding rain. Then he felt Shepherd tugging at his shoulder, and he opened his eyes.

The roof of the awning had broken their fall somewhat, the canvas crumpled beneath them. The ground was softened by the rain, and Vash slipped in the mud as he tried to get up.

"Are you okay?" Vash whispered to Shepherd.

A nod in reply. The boy pulled at his sleeve, gesturing for him to move.

Vash crawled after him haltingly, wincing at the pain in his ankles and ribs. At the edge of the lawn, he could see the other children huddled together, looking up at the church. He felt the heat at his back and looked over his shoulder to see flames leaping from the shattered windows. Over the sounds of the storm and the growing inferno, Vash heard sirens coming their way.

He blacked out for a moment. When he came to, there were firefighters, police cars, an ambulance. The chaperones had come back, and some of the children were standing with them, watching the black smoke rise from the shell of the church. Others' parents had arrived and were holding them tightly.

A paramedic asked him questions while he sat under a waterproof blanket. Shepherd sat beside him until his own parents arrived, asking more questions. Were all the children safe? Had anyone been hurt?

No, a fireman answered, everyone had gotten out safely. Probably an electrical fire set off by a lightning strike…

Headlights blinding his vision. Two doors slamming, voices calling his name.

"Vash? What the hell _happened_ here?"

"Are you all right, Mr. Vash? Can you hear us?"

Millie's umbrella blocked out the glare of the headlights and brought their faces into focus. Meryl reached for Vash's hand. "I couldn't reach you on the phone. Vash, are you hurt?"

Vash blinked at her. "They said I'm in shock."

The umbrella was keeping them dry, but why was the rain spilling down Meryl's face?

"Vash…there was…there was a call from December."

Why was she looking at him like that?

"It's…" Meryl bit her lip, her forehead wrinkled, her hands covered her face.

"It's Wolf," Millie said.


	22. Paradise

The room he sat in was clean and white. Like the waiting room in the hospital, but brighter, emptier. There was no one at the reception desk, and there was only one door.

Wolf couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, or what he was waiting for. He felt fine. The last thing he remembered was lying on the floor in his father's hospital room…

_Oh._

He blinked his eyes. _So this is what it looks like? _No angels, no roads paved with gold, not even any clouds. Just someplace utterly mundane, barely distinguishable from the place he'd left.

Unless this was somewhere else.

Wolf had done his fair share of suffering in hospitals. It wouldn't surprise him if the final suffering waited beyond that door.

But there was no fire here either, no screams of pain, no smell of brimstone. Just the silence and the emptiness and the waiting.

There was one other possibility. But if this was purgatory, then that meant…that meant, somehow…he'd made it off the earth in a state of grace. And that couldn't be true. Not after what he'd done.

"The magazines in these places are always so disappointing," a strangely familiar voice said. "Look at this one: _Water Polo Monthly. _And the issue's from three years ago."

Wolf turned to look at what he'd thought was a row of empty seats beside him, and suddenly found that he wasn't alone. There in the last chair, with an outdated magazine open in his hands, sat a man with balding dark hair and a warm smile. He was short in stature but heavy in build, and he wore a white vestment as bright as the room itself.

"B—Brother Matthias…"

"Hello, Nicholas."

Wolf stared at the smiling face of his teacher, his mentor, his first friend. Then tears came to Wolf's eyes and wouldn't stop falling.

"What's the matter?" Brother Matthias asked with a look of concern. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Wolf shook his head, his throat sore. "Of course. I—I always hoped I'd see you again. But not here." He shook his head harder, and his breath hitched in his chest. "Never here."

He tried to stand, but his knees felt weak and he slid from the chair to the floor, curling up in a miserable heap as the sobs came unimpeded, racking his frame. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be sad for me," Brother Matthias said. "I lived a good life. I only wish I could have said goodbye. I never forgot you, Nicholas. I thought about you and the other children often, many years after I left St. Michael's. I prayed that you had found a good home. And look at who you've grown up to be."

Wolf buried his face in his arms, the sobs worsening. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I'm so sorry. I—I did terrible things. I did everything wrong. I wanted to be like you, but…" He scrubbed the tears from his eyes to no avail. "I just ended up hurting everyone. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

Brother Matthias lifted Wolf's arm carefully from his face. Wolf couldn't bring himself to look the man in the eyes. He sniffed miserably.

"I wanted to tell you," Brother Matthias said, "long ago. You were such a brave boy. I wish now that I'd had your courage, had the will to do what I should have done that first day we met. You were in danger, and I was too cowardly to help. Too afraid of the consequences to see that I should have tried to save you, no matter what the cost. I regretted it my whole life. I am the one who should be apologizing to you."

"No. Please d—don't say that."

"But now I see the man you've grown into," Brother Matthias went on, "and I know that what I failed to do, you achieved. You saved that young boy and gave him a chance at a better life. You saved yourself, Nicholas. And once again I'm humbled by your courage."

"I'm not brave," Wolf interrupted. "I'm not good. I could never save anyone. Didn't you see? I hated myself so much that I changed my name. But I couldn't change what I was. A sinner with no home to go back to. A coward who tried to kill his own father…"

Brother Matthias tilted his head. "That's not what I saw. The person I saw was kind and gentle. Good with children. Eager to help his friends. He had some bad habits, and a tendency to lose his temper, but deep down he had a heart of gold. And in the end, he did the bravest thing of all. He showed mercy, where none was due." Brother Matthias paused. "I'm so proud of him."

Wolf finally raised his head to meet his mentor's gaze. He didn't know what to say. He felt awestruck, embarrassed, unworthy. But most of all, he felt exhausted.

"Mercy is a heavy weight to carry," Brother Matthias said. He placed his hand on Wolf's head, letting him rest against his shoulder. "You know, I had a different name too, once. Melanie was the name I was given. Matthias was the name I chose for myself." He ruffled Wolf's hair gently. "I think Wolf is a fine name."

Wolf thought he had run out of tears, but one more managed to escape. "I missed you," he said. _There are so many things to say._ Yet Wolf felt as if he could scarcely keep his eyes open. "I'm so tired," he mumbled. _I just want to stay here. I just want to sleep._

He heard Brother Matthias's voice like it was part of a dream. "You'll rest soon, little one. But not yet."

Wolf sat up quickly. Brother Matthias was no longer at his side. He was walking toward the door, his back turned to Wolf.

"Wait!" Wolf stood up, and he felt a sharp twist of pain in his stomach. "Where are you going?"

Brother Matthias opened the door. The light behind it was even brighter, so much that it stung Wolf's eyes.

"Don't go!" Wolf begged. "Please…"

He thought he saw Brother Matthias look over his shoulder to give him one last smile. And then he was gone.

"No!" Wolf cried. "Please don't go! Don't leave!" He tried to run after him, but he stopped short as the pain in his abdomen flared up again. The whole room seemed to be dissolving, fading into darkness. Wolf cringed, hugging his arms around his ribcage. It hurt so much. It was getting so dark. And then…

* * *

"Not yet," Wolf murmured, and he opened his eyes.

The room was clean and bright, but not so empty. Drips and monitors and tubes surrounded him. Instead of silence, there was a soft hiss of air and a steady electronic beep.

Wolf stared up at the ceiling tiles. There was a third sound, faraway and bleary. Like someone calling his name.

His gaze wandered over to the bedside, where someone was leaning over to look at him. Someone tall and blonde with a freckle on his face. Someone he thought he'd never see again.

Wolf's lips moved to speak, but hardly a whisper came out. "Spiky?"

Vash smiled, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm right here."

Relief settled on him like a warm blanket. Wolf felt Vash's hand in his, and it took most of his strength just to squeeze Vash's palm and smile back. "Thank God," he said as his eyelids fluttered shut. "For a minute there, I swear you had wings."


	23. The Sound of Breathing

_Dear Rem, wherever you are,_

_ I had a dream last night. First it was just a pebble, falling through the sky. It struck the water and sent out ripples in every direction. Then the ripples turned to waves, and the waves crashed against the shore, and there were people there, standing by the ocean. You and me and Nigh and Tesla, together like a family. And I looked around and saw everyone else I know, and lots of people I still haven't met yet. And they were all looking up at the sky. At something shooting up past the clouds, into the stars, far away but never out of sight. And just as I was waking up, I thought I heard you singing that song you always used to sing._

_ One day, I'll sing it for you._

_ Love, Vash._

* * *

Meryl and Millie took turns watching Wolf with Vash. Most of the time, Wolf slept. Sometimes he was in surgery and nobody was allowed to see him. Vash stayed at the hospital anyway. He slept in the hallway and lost track of what day it was. Millie gently reminded him to eat something every now and then. But the R.A. girls could only stay for a few days before they had to drive back to Augusta University.

"We'll be back next weekend," Meryl promised Vash. "Anything you want us to bring from the dorm?"

Vash was staring at the door to Wolf's room. He was in surgery again today.

At last, Vash mumbled, "His cat."

Meryl laughed nervously. "I don't think they'll let us bring a cat into the hospital."

"We'll bring lots of doughnuts," Millie interrupted. "And clothes and books and puzzles and card games and crosswords. Isn't that right, Meryl?"

"Um…yeah."

"_No_ crosswords," Vash pleaded.

They said their goodbyes, and Vash hugged them both. The hallway was painfully silent after they left.

Vash got up and wandered down the hall with his hand in his pocket. He stopped at a big window that looked down on the parking lot. It was sunny outside, and he watched Meryl and Millie walk to their car with their jackets tucked under their arms. Winter was already thawing into spring.

He took the photo out of his pocket and looked at it. A nurse had found it in the room where Wolf had gone to visit his father, that awful day. Vash and Wolf were smiling in the picture. It seemed so long ago, now.

It hurt to look at the photo, so Vash stood in the sunlight with his eyes closed and said the words in his head, the words he'd repeated so many times over the last few days that they'd become almost like a prayer.

_Please be okay. I love you. I'm sorry. Please._

* * *

When Wolf could finally stay awake for more than a few minutes, he seemed confused.

"How long have I been here?" he asked.

"Almost a week." Vash held onto Wolf's hand as if his life depended on it. He was so glad to see those dark brown eyes again. "Meryl and Millie are coming back to see you tomorrow."

"Are we still in December?"

"Yes. It's a good thing you decided to get hurt in a building full of doctors."

Vash smiled, but Wolf didn't. He just whispered, "He's dead, isn't he."

Silence for a moment. Vash wrinkled his forehead. "I'm sorry, Wolf. Your father passed away in his sleep a few nights ago."

"He…what?"

"The window to his room was broken when they found you. But they still don't know where the gunshot came from. It must have been some kind of freak accident. Anyway, they rushed you into surgery and they moved him to another room—"

"There was another person in the room. Someone came in through the window."

Vash blinked. "I don't think so."

"But…didn't they find the gun?"

Vash shook his head slowly. "There were just the two of you. And this." He took the photo out of his pocket and showed it to Wolf. "I thought I'd lost it, when all my other stuff went missing. But it turns out you had it all along." He shrugged and smiled.

Wolf stared at the photo, wordlessly. He couldn't take his eyes off of it.

"What's the matter, Wolf? You've got a funny look on your face."

"I…it's…nothing." He took the photo from Vash with a trembling hand. "Can I keep this?"

"Of course."

Vash watched him quietly for a minute or so. Then he spoke up again. "Um…Wolf? Something kinda bad happened in Augusta, the day you left."

Wolf paused, scanning Vash's face for clues. "The kids?" he asked, his eyes wide. "Shepherd?"

"He's fine," Vash said quickly. "They're all fine. It's just…I kind of…um. Don't be mad? I think I sort of…broke your bike."

Wolf lifted his head off the pillow. "You _what._"

"Also, well…I might have…maybe burned the church down? Accidentally."

"You _WHAT?_"

"Don't yell! You're gonna tear your stitches..."

"I'm gonna GIVE you stitches, you spiky-headed son of a—"

Those were the last coherent words Wolf uttered before he collapsed, screaming from the pain, and Vash was ushered out of the room again.

* * *

As promised, the R.A. girls returned with heaps of supplies to keep Vash and Wolf occupied in the hospital.

"You can use my laptop to watch movies," Millie offered. "And there's a pair of headphones in the bag."

Meryl had brought the plush Neko that they'd given Vash when he was in the hospital. She placed it next to Wolf's pillow. "Midnight is lonely without you. But Millie gives her lots of tuna."

Wolf smiled. "Thanks."

"Are you feeling better, Mr. Wolfwood?" Millie asked.

"A little. I think."

Vash noticed the lines deepening on Wolf's forehead. Something was obviously bothering him, but Vash couldn't tell what.

"Just focus on getting some rest," Meryl said. "We can get your class assignments and deliver your homework for you."

Wolf shook his head. "No, please. I can't let you go to all this trouble for me. Augusta's too far away, and you're both so busy…"

"We don't mind," Millie said.

"It's not worth it," Wolf insisted. "I don't even know when they'll let me go home. Midvalley's never gonna let me keep my job. I should just drop out."

"_Wolf._" Meryl leaned over the bedside so he had to look her in the eye. "Listen to me. We're not going to let that happen. You're going to finish school, and we're going to help you, whether you like it or not." She stood up straight and folded her arms. "I'll talk some sense into that advisor of yours. We'll work something out. Okay? You're our friend, and we care about you."

Wolf looked as if he might fall apart at any moment. His face was red, his hands curled tight around the bed sheet. Millie reached over and squeezed his shoulder, gently. Then she took Meryl's hand in hers. "Let's go get something to eat, Meryl." She smiled at Vash and Wolf. "We'll bring back lunch in an hour or two."

"Thanks, Millie," Vash said. As they closed the door, he crept closer to Wolf and sat down in the chair beside his bed. Then he picked up the stuffed cat and tucked it under Wolf's arm. "I remember when they brought me this. When you sat beside me every day and talked to me, even if I wouldn't say anything back. Lina told me that you read prayers out of a book sometimes, while I was asleep. But I don't think I ever said thank you. I just remember feeling really angry, and really sad."

"You didn't have to say thanks," Wolf whispered.

"Then you don't, either."

Wolf was quiet. He brushed his hand over his eyes and stared down at the sheets. After a long time he said, "I'm scared."

Vash felt a lump in his throat. He touched Wolf's arm. "You're gonna be okay. The doctors said—"

"It's not that," Wolf said. He struggled to speak for a moment. "I'm not…I—I can't go back. They're going to ask questions. They're going to find out. Vash…I was going to do a terrible thing."

His hands were shaking. Vash leaned forward to put his arm around Wolf. "Hey. It's all right now. Whatever happened…it's over."

"If you knew, you—you wouldn't be here. If you knew what kind of person I am." Tears rolled down his face. "Meryl and Millie would be afraid of me. They'd kick me out of Chapel Hall. Midvalley would kick me out of the school. Amelia would fire me from my job. I'd never—God, I'd never see Shepherd again…"

"Slow down." Vash moved from the chair to the edge of the bed, curling his legs up on the thin mattress. He ran his hand through Wolf's hair. "I'm not going to leave. I'm going to look after you. No matter what."

Wolf leaned his head against Vash's hand. "You'll think I'm crazy."

"No, I won't. I'd never think that."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "And what if I told you a ghost followed me here? Would you believe that?"

Vash smiled slightly. "I think you'd be surprised."

* * *

Wolf told Vash what happened on the day he left Augusta. He spoke quietly, eyes darting to the door every few seconds. His hands shook, but Vash never let go.

It was a strange story. A sad and frightening story. And Wolf was right—probably no one would believe it.

But Vash listened and nodded, because his own story was sad, and strange, and frightening. And while he'd sat in that hospital room waiting for Wolf to wake up, he'd realized something.

_Rem, you told us long ago that when people take off their masks, they risk losing everything. After seeing what you lost, I never believed it was worth the risk. But I think I get why you did it, now. And I'm just so tired of keeping secrets. So I think it's finally time._

Vash bit his lip. Wolf had stopped talking a while ago. He was watching Vash's face, waiting for a response, waiting for something.

_The thing is, I met someone here. He's different from me, but he's willing to trust me with his whole heart. I'm ready to trust him, too._

_ I think that means I have to say goodbye._

A tear slid down his face.

_I'm going to miss talking to you like this. But you're really gone now, aren't you? You've been gone all this time._

Vash leaned forward on the mattress with his head in the crook of his arm. His shoulders shook, but he didn't make a sound. Then he felt Wolf's hand on his back.

"Vash? Are you okay? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you…that was a lot. I'm sorry."

"No." Vash lifted his head, so Wolf could see he was smiling through his tears. "No, I'm glad you told me." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, gathering his courage. "I have a lot to tell you, too."

* * *

Vash was stepping out of the room that night to visit the bathroom when he noticed someone standing at the end of the hallway. A tall young man with a silver cross around his neck that glinted in the dim light. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Vash recognized the scar on his face, the asymmetrical haircut. Then Livio turned around and hurried toward the elevator.

"Hey, wait up a minute!" Vash jogged after him. "Aren't you here to see Wolf?"

Livio refused to acknowledge Vash's cries. He hit the button to close the elevator doors before Vash could catch up. And just like that, he was gone.

Vash stood in the empty hallway for a few minutes, debating whether he should go after Livio or not. Eventually he decided against it. The last time Wolf saw Livio, things hadn't ended well.

So what was Livio doing in December?

He thought about telling Wolf, but Wolf was asleep again, and besides, it wasn't any of Vash's business.

* * *

Wolf was feeling much better these days. The R.A. girls were in town for spring break. Meryl took a walk outside with Vash while Millie played cards with Wolf in his room. Birds were singing in the trees that lined the sidewalk, and the first flowers were beginning to bloom.

"The nurse says there's no sign of infection," Vash reported. "And he can walk around for a few minutes at a time. They should be able to send him home for the outpatient stuff."

"That's a relief." Meryl paused, then placed her hand on Vash's left shoulder. "I'm sick of worrying about you two," she said with a note of humor in her voice. "Can't you stay out of trouble for one semester?"

Vash laughed. "Well, you're gonna be an insurance agent one day, right? And apparently I'm a natural disaster. I'd say we make a pretty good team."

Meryl laughed, too, and her smile caught the sunlight. She seemed to lose her train of thought, gazing up at Vash. Her brown eyes reminded him of Wolf's, when he had something on his mind but wouldn't say it out loud. Then her gaze flitted down to the sidewalk and she started walking again.

Vash had to keep pace with her, since she hadn't quite let go of his jacket, the sleeve bunched tightly in her hand.

* * *

In the hospital room that night, after the nurse left them alone, Vash turned out the lights and snuck under the covers with Wolf. They had the blinds pulled up from the window so they could look at the stars. Even in the heart of December, there were few streetlights to pollute the night sky. As their eyes adjusted to the dark, they could pick out the constellations that sat low on the horizon.

Wolf had a lot of questions about what Vash had told him. And Vash had questions for Wolf. They often spent their nights learning which questions were safe to ask each other, and which were better left alone.

"So you think Shepherd came from that place in July?" Wolf asked Vash. "You think he's one of Dr. Conrad's…creations? Like that Legato guy?"

"Or like me and Nigh and Tesla?" Vash replied gently. "Nigh called them prototypes. I call them people. All I know is that Shepherd could speak to me the same way that Legato did. And he saved my life. He saved all of us."

Wolf was silent for a moment, watching the stars flicker. Then he said, "Shepherd's foster parents didn't know where he came from. He was found wandering in Augusta by himself. Police, social workers…they never identified him. No records, no birth certificate, nothing. Not even a matching fingerprint. Shepherd was a name they picked out of a dictionary." He glanced over at Vash, then back at the window, shyly. "You know what I thought, when I first met him? I thought God had sent him to me. Like he was giving me a second chance, for all the things I'd done wrong. I thought if I could just take care of this one kid, maybe I'd be forgiven. Shepherd reminded me so much of myself at that age. And I knew I had to protect him from all the bad things that had happened to me. I never heard his voice like you did, but…I guess I've always felt like I could hear what he was saying. And lately I've noticed how much he's already grown up. He's already doing fine without me." Wolf rested his head on Vash's shoulder. "I hate being stuck here. I hate that I can't see him right now. But I know he's okay. And that's a good thought, but it hurts a little."

Vash put his arm around Wolf, careful not to touch his bandages. He felt Wolf relax against him, slipping closer to sleep. "I wonder how many others there are," Vash said, more to himself than to Wolf. _Others like me. Like us._ It was a thought he'd never entertained before, but he should have known it was possible. Vash, and Nigh, and Tesla…they were the first of a kind. There would surely be more to come.

"It's my turn to ask a question," Vash said.

Wolf nodded sleepily.

"Nigh told me you could see Tesla. Her ghost. And you said there were ghosts that followed you." Vash paused, looking around the empty corners of the room. To his eyes, there was nothing here but shadow and starlight. "Wolf…do you ever…have you ever seen…is there anyone here with me?"

For a moment, Wolf didn't reply. Vash thought perhaps he had fallen asleep. He sat still, not wanting to wake him. But to his surprise, Wolf spoke. "It's not the shape of a person, really. Not like what I'm used to. Actually, I wasn't sure it was anything at all. But ever since I met you…every once in a while, when I'm drifting off to sleep, I swear I can hear someone singing."

Vash's heart skipped a beat.

"The funny thing is," Wolf continued, "I've always been so afraid of them. But this one puts me right to sleep. I can't hear the words they're singing, but…it's such a beautiful song. Vash, I wish you could hear it."

His voice was soft and mumbly now, just at the edge of sleep. Vash smiled, laying his cheek against Wolf's head. "I can," he whispered. "I can."

He thought he glimpsed a meteorite trailing through the sky, but it could have been a trick of the light, a passing headlight against the windowpane. Or maybe just the water in his eyes.

* * *

It was a bright, clear morning when the nurse came into Wolf's room and told him he'd been released to go home. He was given a list of prescriptions and a referral to a care provider in Augusta. "You can leave whenever you're ready."

Wolf stared at the papers, looking as if he couldn't quite believe it.

"Don't we need to fill out a discharge form or something?" Vash asked.

"It's all been taken care of. The forms were signed this morning." The nurse held out a clipboard to Vash, and he looked down at the printed forms in surprise. Everything filled out to the letter. But why was the nurse showing this to…

Vash stopped breathing. There was something familiar about the handwriting, smooth and precise. And then, at the bottom of the page, in the signature field, he saw it. One name, spelled out in roundhand script.

_Luida._

He stood up fast, clutching at the clipboard and nearly toppling over the chair he'd been sitting in. "Where's the person who signed this? Did you see her? Is she still here?"

"Vash?" Wolf's voice came from behind him. "What's going on?"

The nurse stopped Vash from running out the door with a firm hand on his shoulder. "There's no cause for alarm. Vash. Listen to me. She's safe."

Gradually, the panic in Vash's chest died down, and he stared into the nurse's eyes with a sudden feeling of recognition. It was something he hadn't felt since Luida was alive. Back when Vash's world was full of secrets and syringes and coded talk and hiding in the dark. It seemed the professor had kept one last secret from him.

_Luida is alive._

"I was instructed to give you this, as well," the nurse said, handing Vash a blank envelope.

He opened the envelope and peered inside. His eyes widened. "Wait a minute. Did she—"

But when he looked up, the nurse had already left.

Wolf touched his wrist. "Vash, what the hell was that all about?"

Vash closed the envelope quickly and shoved it in his pocket. His throat felt dry. Was this really happening? Would his life be plunged right back into secrecy and lies, just when he thought he'd finally stepped out of it?

He looked at Wolf's face, and he felt a sharp pain inside. _No. No more lies._

"Luida's alive," he said.


	24. Goodbye, For Now

_ Vash says I slept for two days when we got back to Augusta, but I don't remember any of it. I just remember waking up beside him in our room in Chapel Hall and feeling more at peace than I'd ever felt before. The sun was out and Neko was asleep between us and for once, everything was warm. I never belonged in December. I should have always been here. The place where I met Amelia and Shepherd and Jasmine and the kids. The place where I met Lina and Neko and my three best friends. The place that feels like home to me._

_ God, if there even is a God, if you can hear me…please let me have just one thing._

* * *

Wolf sat in the backseat of Meryl's car, holding tight to Vash's hand. The radio was turned off, and no one was speaking, though Wolf sensed that Meryl and Millie had as many thoughts racing through their heads as he did. Vash smiled at Wolf in the flickering sunlight and Wolf smiled back, squeezing his hand. He wasn't going to cry. He needed to remember that smile just as it was, with Vash's blue eyes catching the light as the trees flashed by the window behind him. He needed to remember the comforting heat of the sun against his back, and the soft strength of the hand in his.

He leaned forward and tapped on Millie's shoulder. "Hey, let's listen to some music. Put it on that station you and Vash like."

Millie glanced back at Wolf, and for a split-second, Wolf saw the look of absolute grief in her eyes before she replaced it with a sunny smile. "Okay."

An upbeat melody came through the speakers, and together with the warmth and brightness of the day, it served to drown out the discomfort that had been growing in Wolf's heart since they'd left the school. He caught Meryl's gaze in the rearview mirror, just as she blinked a tear from her eye and swept her sleeve across her cheek. He knew she'd noticed him watching, because neither of them said anything about it.

Meryl cleared her throat as they approached the exit ramp. "Almost there," she said cheerily, her voice wavering. "Vash, I have half a mind to turn this car around and drive you right back to Chapel Hall."

Vash grinned at her in the mirror. "If you're planning on kidnapping me, you probably shouldn't be telling me about it."

"If you're planning on not being kidnapped, you'd better stop giving your kidnapper advice."

They all laughed then, and Wolf could almost forget that anything was different from how it used to be. Millie put her hand on Meryl's knee, and Wolf leaned over to kiss Vash on the freckle beneath his eye, but Vash tipped his head back and met Wolf's mouth with his own. Wolf closed his eyes and tried his best to stop time right there. By the way Vash held Wolf's head in his hand, Wolf could tell that Vash was trying, too.

* * *

"Vash, what the hell was all that about?"

Before Wolf could glimpse what was in the envelope, Vash folded it and shoved it in his pocket. He stood there with his back turned to Wolf, and Wolf felt his heart sinking. It was happening again. The secrets, the lies. Vash was going to push Wolf out of his life, just when Wolf thought he'd finally been let in.

But then Vash turned around. The look on his face was not what Wolf expected. It was conflicted, helpless, exhausted.

"Luida's alive," Vash said.

Wolf stared at him. It took a minute for the words to sink in. "Professor Luida…survived?"

"Yes."

_That's great news, right? _"Thank God," Wolf said. But the envelope, and the fact that Vash wasn't smiling, made him uneasy. "Where has she been?" Wolf asked. "Why didn't she come to see you, when…"

Vash shook his head. "I don't know. She probably had her reasons. She always does."

Wolf wrinkled his eyebrows. "What is it, Vash? What was in that envelope?"

Vash hesitated, his eyes averted. Then he dug the crumpled paper out of his pocket and held it out to Wolf.

"It's a plane ticket," Vash said. "One-way."

Wolf held the paper in his hands without looking at it. His gaze was locked on Vash. "Read it," Vash told him.

He tried to obey, but his eyes were blurry and the letters swam around meaninglessly.

"Juneora Rock," Vash explained. "I'm supposed to leave at the end of the semester."

"I—I don't get it. Why'd she give you this? She can't expect you to just drop everything and—"

"This is how it always happens," Vash interrupted. "I'm sorry, Wolf. I have to go."

Wolf could feel a dull ache starting up where his stitches had been. He clenched the ticket in his fist, breathing unsteadily. "Wait a minute. You still have a choice. You don't have to keep doing this." The tension rose inside his chest, the questions he'd kept inside since Luida had disappeared. "All that stuff you told me about Dr. Conrad and Nigh and Tesla…how can you trust these people, Vash? It's been months since you stopped taking those shots and you're still okay. Hell, you seem like you're getting _better. _How much do you really know about Professor Luida? How do you know she wasn't just experimenting on you, like Nigh said?"

"I _don't,_" Vash said. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "I don't know, okay? But she's a good person. Rem trusted her. And if it's an experiment…then it's one that I need to be a part of."

"You don't have to believe that." Wolf gripped Vash's shoulders, pleading with him. But Vash shrugged him loose.

"It's my decision," Vash said. "Look, I don't expect you to understand this, Wolf, but you don't need to be so scared. As long as I'm with Luida, I'll be safe. She made a promise once. And I've got to help her get to Nigh, so he can be safe, too."

Wolf's eyes filled with tears. It didn't make any sense. "Let me come with you," he said at last, desperately.

"I can't. I'm sorry." Vash's face softened a little. "Besides, you have to stay at Chapel Hall so Neko and the R.A. girls won't get lonely."

Wolf's shoulders shook, and Vash pulled him into an embrace. "I'm sorry, Wolf," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I'll try to come back, I promise. I'll try to come back to you. But you have to let me go."

When he could breathe easier, Wolf let out a trembling sigh. "I know," he mumbled into Vash's shirt. "I just don't want to."

Wolf wasn't eager to take anything on faith anymore. He knew what this could mean. What was at stake. And he hated it, but he also knew this was a fight he couldn't win. Vash's convictions ran deeper than Wolf's faith ever had.

Yet even now, he found himself praying.

"Hey," Vash said, running his hand through Wolf's hair. "We still have lots of time. Let's get your stuff together and catch a bus back home. We'll surprise Meryl and Millie."

Wolf scrubbed his face with his sleeve and nodded. They packed up their clothes and the things that the R.A. girls had brought, and Vash carried Wolf's satchel as they made their way to the hospital lobby. When they were settled in a bus seat later that day, heading toward Augusta, Vash looked out the window and asked, "Can you help me tell them, when we get back? I think Millie will understand, but…Meryl might slap me again, y'know?"

Wolf followed his gaze to the window, nodding. "Yeah, okay. We'll tell them together."

Outside, the landscape had thawed into shades of bright green and yellow. The seasons had shifted while Wolf was in the hospital. This new spring was bold and unfamiliar, almost too bright for their eyes. But they would face it without fear. They'd made it through the winter, after all, and that was more than either of them could have hoped for.

* * *

Wolf spent the last two weeks of classes knee-deep in overdue assignments and make-up work. Even though he'd done nothing but study since he got back to Augusta, he wasn't sure he'd be able to pass all of his courses.

"You gonna get out of bed today?" Vash asked as he walked in, drying his hair from the shower.

Wolf groaned, shifting his legs under the pile of textbooks and papers that covered the bed. "Why bother? I still haven't finished any of this."

"It's Sunday morning." Vash was putting on the only nice shirt he owned, the one with buttons. He'd practiced buttoning it so much that he was faster than Wolf now. "Millie says they finished the construction project yesterday. The church is gonna have its first service inside since the accident." He lifted one of Wolf's ties from the bedside. "Don't you want to be there?"

Wolf gave him a sideways look. "Of course I want to. But…finals start tomorrow, and…"

"And you have to study. Yeah, yeah, I know." Vash tucked the tie under his chin while he looped one end around the other. "It's not like you're _avoiding_ it or anything."

"That's not fair, Vash." Wolf narrowed his eyes. "You know why I haven't been able to go. Midvalley suspended my mentor job, and I can't work on my practicum until next fall. Look, I appreciate you stepping in and volunteering with the kids while I've been out. I just haven't had a chance to go back yet."

"Whatever. Hey, can you help me fix this tie?"

With a long sigh, Wolf pushed the books off his lap and rolled out of bed. He faced Vash, squaring the knot under his collar and pulling it snug. Vash was warm from the shower and he smelled so good, like aftershave, and _Wolf knew when he was being bribed, goddamn it._

Vash gazed at him with soft and solemn eyes. Baiting the goddamn hook. "They ask about you all the time. Especially Shepherd. He has something he's been wanting to show you."

Wolf had finished with the tie, but he didn't let go just yet. "Are they okay?" he asked quietly.

"Huh? Yeah, everyone's fine."

"Are you sure? Because Tania doesn't eat when she's upset, and Philip forgets to take his allergy meds, and Jasmine gets pushed down if she plays with the big kids…"

"They're okay, Wolf. I promise." Vash put his hand on the side of Wolf's face. "But if you can't take my word for it, you should come and see them for yourself."

Wolf paused, savoring the feeling of Vash's palm on his cheek, before he finally nodded. "Okay. But I'm going back to bed as soon as we get home. And you're coming with me."

Vash grinned. "Deal."

* * *

Wolf placed his hand against the door to the church, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He wanted to turn around and walk back to Meryl's car. He wasn't worthy of this place. All those weeks he'd been gone, Millie and Meryl had been working to rebuild and remodel the church. Even Amelia and her third-graders had volunteered to help. Vash had taken over Wolf's role as a mentor and looked after the kids on Saturdays. But Wolf hadn't been there when the children needed him. He hadn't been there to help Vash, or to stop the fire, or to stop Nigh. He hadn't even been there to help rebuild, too weak from his injuries and too fearful of the people who might see him, what they might say.

"Hey." Vash's hand was warm on his shoulder. "You ready to go in?"

Wolf steeled his jaw and pretended not to be terrified. He felt as helpless and embarrassed as he had that night in Chapel Hall when they'd made their first journey through those dark halls together. But just like that night, Vash put his hand into Wolf's, and whatever lay behind that door didn't seem so frightening anymore.

The new sanctuary was clean and bright. Organ music echoed in the chamber as churchgoers filed into the pews. As Vash scanned the seats to find where Meryl and Millie had gone, a small child came running down the aisle.

"Mr. Wolf!" The little girl collided with Wolf, wrapping her arms around his knees.

A smile came to his face, unbidden. "Jasmine! When did you get so big and strong? You just about knocked me over."

"Pick me up!" Jasmine demanded.

While Wolf made a show of trying to lift the toddler as if she wasn't as light as Neko, a few of the other children turned around in their seats and pointed his way.

"Look, Mr. Wolf's back!"

Their cheerful voices drowned out the somber liturgical music as they ran to meet him.

"You came back!"

"Are you better now?"

"We missed you, Mr. Wolf."

Surrounded by so many smiling faces, Wolf had given up on trying to look brave. He knelt down to hug them, barely holding back tears. "I'm back. I'm fine. I missed you, too."

"Did you see the window yet?"

"Show him, Mr. Vash!"

Wolf looked up at Vash, who was smiling too. "I told them you'd been in the hospital, and they wanted to make something for you. Millie had the idea for the windows."

By this time, Meryl and Millie had noticed the commotion and came to stand beside Vash. "There wasn't enough money to replace the original stained glass," Meryl explained. "The kids finished putting it up yesterday."

Wolf gazed around the sanctuary at the windows that used to hold intricate stained glass designs. Now they were colorful again, the plain glass covered with mosaics of tissue paper cutouts, arranged into shapes of flowers and leaves, clouds and birds. There was a different scene on every window. And off in a corner, there was one window with writing on it. _Welcome Back Wolf._

And that was already enough to make the tears slip out of Wolf's eyes, but there was someone standing near the window, waiting for him.

"Shepherd!"

Wolf made his way to the window, with the crowd of tiny followers still clinging to him. Shepherd made a few signing motions with his hands, and Wolf watched with wide eyes.

"We've been learning ASL," Vash translated. He signed the same sentence, though it looked a bit different with only one hand.

Wolf blinked and sniffed. "Shepherd, that's amazing. That's wonderful." His voice came out hoarse, and he was having trouble speaking. But that was okay, because all he could think to say at that moment, to Shepherd and Vash and the children and his friends, happened to be some of the only words he knew how to sign. _Thank you. Thank you. I love you._

Nicholas used to think that if he listened hard enough, he could hear the voice of God. Brother Matthias could, and Father Chapel, and even Livio said he could hear it sometimes. But the voice that spoke to Nicholas was scolding and reproachful, blaming him for every choice he made. It wasn't until recently that Wolf realized the voice he'd heard had not belonged to God, but to his parents and teachers and all the ghosts of his past that whispered in the darkness when he found himself alone and afraid. God had never spoken to him, never told him what to do or what to say or where to go. _Maybe,_ Wolf thought, _there never was a right answer._ Somehow, he'd managed to find this beautiful place all on his own.

* * *

The service was completely forgettable, as far as Wolf was concerned. He went through the motions, distracted by his own happiness, occasionally swapping smiles with Vash or Meryl or Millie. He was thoroughly at ease, the frustration and anxiety of that morning all but dissipated. But somewhere toward the end of the service, Wolf had the uncanny feeling that someone was watching him. It was like the feeling he got when one of _them_ was in the room, a prickling sensation at the base of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder at the back of the sanctuary.

Nothing in the shadows. No whispers, no eerie light. Wolf was about to turn back around, until he saw the figure standing by the door.

His face went cold. Livio stared back at him for a moment, then turned and walked out the door, closing it soundlessly behind him.

Vash tugged on Wolf's sleeve. "What's up?" he whispered.

Wolf faked a reassuring smile. "Nothing. I just need to step outside." He tapped the nicotine patch on his arm. Vash knew about how he took walks to reduce the cravings, so he nodded. "I'll see you when the service lets out," Wolf whispered, and he eased out of the pew and headed for the door.

* * *

_What happened to Brother Matthias was wrong._

_ What happened to Livio was wrong._

_ Chapel will pay for his sins._

Nicholas woke up in a cold sweat. Another nightmare. He'd burned the notes, the investigation was over, and Father Chapel was long gone. But the dreams wouldn't end. Dreams of fire and ghosts and blood on his hands. And that look of disgust on Livio's face, glaring at Nicholas as though he were absolutely worthless. That was the worst part. Because he could forget the scariest nightmares, but he couldn't forget the fact that Livio hated him.

He turned on his side in the dormitory bed, trying to go back to sleep. It was the middle of the night, but a full moon shone through the window and bathed the room in pale blue light. Something dark on the windowsill caught his eye, and he sat up.

It was the bible that Brother Matthias had given him. Nicholas didn't remember leaving it there. He usually kept the old book hidden in his suitcase under the bed, safe from anyone who might steal or desecrate the only memory of his friend that he had left.

Nicholas took the bible from the windowsill and flipped through the pages. It fell open to Ephesians. Nicholas felt a twist of pain in his heart, staring at the soft pencilled letters in the margins. But that wasn't the only thing.

There was a slip of paper lodged between the pages. Nicholas unfolded it, his hands shaking. He read the typed words, his breath caught in his throat.

_I will always protect you. –Razlo_

Nicholas glanced up at the door to the room. Livio watched him silently for a brief moment, then slipped out the door, his footsteps fading down the hall.

"Wait!" Nicholas whispered urgently, scrambling out of bed and through the open door. He stood in the dark hallway with the note clutched in his hand, his heart pounding.

"Livio?" Nicholas called softly.

But he was already gone.

* * *

Wolf raced down the church steps, out onto the lawn. Around the corner of the building, he spotted a towheaded man in a black suit, walking toward the cemetery.

"Livio?" Wolf jogged to catch up to him. "Hey, I know you can hear me. I just want to talk."

No response. Livio stood staring at the iron gate, the wind ruffling his chin-length hair. Wolf came to a halt behind him, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"I know why you're here. I know you've been watching me. So don't pretend like you can't hear me…Razlo."

At the sound of the name, Livio glanced behind him, and Wolf caught sight of his one blue eye.

Wolf smiled just a little, disarmingly. "Come on. We both know you couldn't hide forever. Don't worry, I haven't told anyone."

He reached into his jacket and took out the photograph, the one that Vash had found in his father's hospital room. "You dropped this," Wolf said. "Vash thought I'd had it all along. Still giving you the benefit of the doubt, after all the dumb shit you did to him. So, you want it back or what?"

Livio turned back to the gate again, his shoulders hunched. Wolf laughed bitterly and turned so that he stood back to back with Livio. He reached into his pocket reflexively for a smoke, but there was nothing there. "Damn it. You're moody as hell, you know that, Liv?" He gazed up at the steeple of the church, the blue sky above it. "But you don't have to worry about me anymore. I'm fine. There are good people here."

Still no response. But Wolf knew by the silence that he was listening. Razlo had never been much of a talker, compared to Livio.

"You saved my life," Wolf said quietly. "I don't remember exactly what happened, but…I knew Chapel was going to kill me. Even if that meant he had to possess someone else to do it. My father didn't have the strength left to lift that gun on his own, much less pull the trigger. Guess I'm lucky Chapel has such bad aim." He looked back at Livio. "You know what's weird about it? I haven't seen Chapel's ghost since that night. Not once."

Livio stood as still as the cemetery statues. Then, in a voice that wasn't quite like his own, he said, "Chapel will never hurt anyone again."

The wind was picking up, the last cold snap of spring sharpening the breeze. Wolf stared at the back of Livio's blazer. He only came up to Livio's shoulders now, but Wolf could remember when they were both so small. "Thank you, Razlo. Thank you for saving me."

He touched Livio's arm lightly. To his surprise, Livio didn't pull away. Wolf felt a familiar pang of regret, the longing he felt whenever he recalled those faraway days when he and Livio had been friends, or maybe something more.

The sound of muffled organ music came from inside the church, and Wolf let go abruptly. He was about to head back to the front door, then he stopped and addressed Razlo. "By the way, you can tell Livio to stop being such a little asshole. Vash is my boyfriend now, and he's gonna have to learn to accept that if he wants to stick around here."

Vash and the R.A. girls met Wolf at the door, and Wolf took Vash's hand as they walked to the car. When he looked back at the cemetery, he noticed Livio was watching them. Wolf waited for a rude gesture, or the usual look of disgust, but Livio simply waved his hand to see them off. Wolf nodded to him slightly. Then he got into the car and just like that, they parted ways again.

* * *

The airport was bustling with travelers, but the parking lot that Vash had directed them to was somewhat desolate, with only a few abandoned-looking vehicles nearby.

"You sure this is the right place?" Meryl asked. "We could drive you up to the gate instead."

"No, she wanted me to meet them out here." Vash opened the door and got out of the car, stretching. Meryl turned off the engine, surveying the parking lot skeptically as the rest of them got out.

"You'll come and visit us, won't you, Mr. Vash?" Millie asked.

"I hope so. I'll try my best," he promised.

Millie hugged him tightly. Wolf looked over at Meryl, who stood at a distance, her arms folded and her face flushed. He went to stand beside her, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Vash will be okay," Wolf promised, though he wasn't sure he believed it himself.

Meryl sniffed, nodding. When Vash looked their way, both of them tried to smile, but it was difficult. Vash stepped over to Meryl and reached for her hand.

"Thanks for everything," he said. "I don't know what I would've done without you and Millie." Meryl bit her lip, and Vash leaned over to kiss the top of her head. "I really love you both, you know."

Meryl slumped against him, burying her face in his jacket as he embraced her gently. "Just stay out of trouble, okay?" she pleaded.

A black car pulled into the space across from them, and Vash looked up. Wolf's muscles tensed, and he moved to stand in front of Vash, reflexively.

The back door opened, and a familiar figure stepped out. A tall, thin woman with short hair and a white coat.

"Professor Luida!" Vash smiled, edging out of Wolf's protective reach to greet her. "I'm so glad you're all right."

She smiled back at him. "It's good to see you, Vash."

"These are my friends, Meryl and Millie." He gestured toward the R.A. girls, who smiled politely in return. "And you've already met Wolf."

Wolf grunted a hello, tracking the professor's every move with wary eyes.

"We don't have much time," Luida said. "You packed light, I hope?"

"Yeah, I'll get my stuff."

As Meryl and Millie helped Vash move his luggage out of the car, Luida stepped over to Wolf and reached out her hand.

"I owe you a debt of gratitude, Wolf. The project would be over if it wasn't for you."

He stared at her, unmoving.

"The call you made to my office on the night of the disaster," Luida clarified. "Thankfully, we were able to get everyone out before the explosion. Of course, we had to move our research elsewhere. But this isn't the first time that's happened."

Wolf didn't accept her handshake. "I was just trying to find Vash. The whole thing destroyed him, when he thought you were dead. He almost killed himself trying to go in there after you."

Luida nodded solemnly. "I understand you don't trust me, Wolf. I'm not asking you to. But I hope you know that Vash has always been my first priority. That's how I knew I could leave him with you for a while. Because he appears to be your first priority, as well."

Wolf felt a knot in his throat. He clenched his hands into fists, his palms sweating. "If anything—_anything_ happens to him…I swear to God…"

"All packed!" Vash announced cheerily, interrupting their tense exchange. "Can I have my boyfriend back for a minute, Professor? I haven't gotten to say goodbye."

Luida smiled, taking a step back from Wolf while giving him one last meaningful gaze. "I'll leave you alone with your friends until it's time, Vash. Be in the car in five minutes."

Vash smiled at Wolf, and Wolf just stared back at him, breathing a bit unsteadily. The knot in his throat was getting tighter. He heard the door to Luida's car shut, and the sound of a plane taking off from the distant runway.

"Well," Vash sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "This is it."

Wolf struggled to hold himself together, but he couldn't look at Vash's face for very long. He lowered his eyes to Vash's faded red jacket instead. The old thing was completely worn out, spattered with ink stains and shredded here and there by Neko's claws, the empty sleeve hanging in tatters. Wolf couldn't help a weak smile.

"You should really get a new jacket," he said.

Vash looked down at it and laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He paused, then started to wriggle out of the sleeves. He pulled the jacket over his head and moved a little closer to Wolf. "Why don't you hold onto it for me? It still gets pretty cold at night."

Wolf opened his mouth to protest, but Vash was already throwing it over his head, pulling it down over his shoulders. When Vash tugged the hood down from his face, Wolf was crying.

"Hey, it's okay." Vash put his arm around Wolf, and Wolf leaned into him. "It's okay."

They stood there in each other's arms for a long time, but not long enough. Wolf couldn't seem to think of what to say. He hated goodbyes. He'd always avoided them. But this was different. This wasn't just anyone. This was Wolf's very best friend. His silly, sad, beautiful boy. His one in sixty billion. Vash.

All he could do was stand there and hold onto him and never let him go. And of course, he would have to let him go. And Vash would kiss him very sweetly, and brush his thumb under Wolf's eyes as more tears came down, and Wolf would have to let him go. Meryl and Millie would come to wave goodbye and the car door would open and Wolf would reach for him one more time, instinctively, his hand clasping around Vash's wrist. And Vash would smile and say _It's okay_ _Wolf_, _I love you Wolf, be safe, _and Wolf would have to let him go, and that would be the end.

Meryl and Millie kept waving until the car was out of sight. Wolf found himself in the backseat alone, riding back to Chapel Hall in silence. He hugged his arms around his chest, exhausted and dumbstruck. The sleeves of the jacket came down over his hands, and it smelled like home, like Vash.

* * *

Morning light stung Wolf's eyes. He lay on the bare mattress, blinking at the almost-empty room. There hadn't been much left to pack. Just his books, a few drawings and things Vash had left behind, and the clothes he came with. And the cross on the wall.

Wolf hadn't taken it down yet. As he sat up, contemplating it, he heard approaching footsteps in the hall and an energetic knock on the door.

"Moving day!" Millie sang. "Last one out's a rotten egg!"

Wolf opened the door, rubbing his eyes. "I know, I know." He slung his satchel over his shoulder, tying his shoes as Millie hefted his suitcase and the last small bag.

They walked out into the hall, and Wolf paused a minute before closing the door to Room 206. He never would have suspected how much this place would come to feel like home.

"Did Neko go out last night?" Wolf asked. He'd left a stash of cat food and a bowl for rainwater out by the bike shed.

"Meryl let him out this morning," Millie answered. "Now come on, lazypants, I gotta lock up."

Wolf took one last look at the room, and his eyes fell on the small white cross. For a second, he thought about going back in to get it. Then he changed his mind and closed the door, heading down the hallway after Millie.

It was the first day of summer vacation, and Wolf felt directionless and apprehensive. He had failed a couple of classes that spring, and he would have to take them again next semester. He'd been searching for an apartment, and he wanted to ask Meryl and Millie if they'd be interested in rooming with him to split the rent, but he hadn't gotten up the courage just yet. He'd probably stay in a hotel for a couple of nights until he could get things sorted out.

Downstairs, the atrium was empty and lifeless. As Millie switched off the lights, Wolf heard a car horn honking outside. Millie swung open the front door and yelled out at the blue station wagon, "We're coming, Meryl! Hold your horses!"

She fiddled with her keyring to lock the door behind them. Wolf walked out into the sunlight, shielding his eyes. It was a warm day.

"What's the rush?" Wolf asked, rolling up his sleeves. "Aren't you guys just driving back home for the summer?"

Millie pocketed her keys and beamed at him, jogging down the steps to Meryl's waiting car. "Okay, let's go! Pop the trunk, Meryl!"

Wolf watched in confusion as Millie threw his bags into the trunk. "Hey, wait up. I don't need a ride anywhere—"

"Hop in, Mr. Wolfwood! We're goin' on a trip!"

"What?" Wolf held up his hands. "Wait a second. I'm not—"

"_Get—in—the—damn—car—Wolfwood!_" Meryl yelled, punctuating each word with a honk of the horn.

Startled, Wolf obeyed. He got into the backseat and set his satchel on his knees. "Anyone mind telling me where the hell we're going?" he asked as Millie slammed the trunk and leapt in the passenger seat.

"Wherever the hell we want," Meryl answered smugly, putting on her sunglasses and shifting the car into first gear.

"We're hitting the road for the summer," Millie announced. "Cross-country. Put your seatbelt on, Mr. Wolfwood."

"No plans, no maps, and no whining," Meryl instructed. The old station wagon slowly picked up speed as she turned out of the parking lot, and in a few minutes they were off campus, rambling toward the interstate. "Don't tell me you had better plans," Meryl said, winking at Wolf in the rearview mirror.

He looked out the window at the passing trees and power lines, then up at the boundless road ahead. "Can't say I did," he admitted, settling down at last.

Millie turned on the radio and rolled down her window, the wild summer air blowing in around them. Wolf leaned back in his seat and exhaled deeply. "So, which way are we heading? North or south?"

Meryl held out one fist and bounced it in the air three times. "Rock-paper-scissors." Wolf barely caught on in time and ended up losing, rock to paper.

"Hmm," Meryl considered the road signs. "I say north. Who knows? We might end up passing through Juneora Rock."

She grinned, and this time Wolf smiled, too.

"All right. As long as we stop for coffee first."

Less than a year ago, Wolf wouldn't have believed that he'd end up here, on a spontaneous road trip with his friends, bound for cities unknown. He wouldn't have believed anything that had happened since last fall. But this Wolf was different, and he'd finally found something new to believe in.


End file.
